Margaret Josette Dupres (A Novel)
by Daryl Wor
Summary: Maggie Evans, as the reincarnation of Josette Dupres weds Barnabas Collins. This delves into what occurs during & after "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". I never meant to create this. The characters just took over. Includes Willie, Wadsworth, Sam & Sarah. Hard troubles, of course, but it is passionately ever after. POV changes throughout. (Thx! Reviews! Love 'em minus the trolls)
1. Chapter 1: The Wedding Day

**[Author's Note:] The thing about this novel is it is a derivative, which means it's based on a longer series. I've been working my bum off trying to find the fans of this pairing since it's fans are so rare (... or... are they?) and also because all I was trying to do is to get everything to work out with everyone in the Dark Shadows series. This is based on a rare type of creation: Interruption Story. NO Alternate Universe. So, if you don't know "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" you might want to start from there but you don't have to. It is done with character voices and in podcast/radio format in which I've spent a great deal of money and effort to get all the voices and audio quality correct. I need help in commentary with this project because there are too many fandoms involved for me to get any supposed "rights". I want it to work out and as far as I could determine, when I went down the line of all of the characters, Maggie Evans, and Kitty Soames as the reincarnation of Josette Dupres was what Barnabas Collins wanted. (And I aim to have all the other characters happy as well.)**

**Have iTunes? Have access to Archive dot Org? Have access to the podomatic site via my profile page? As I've desperately requested of all of these other fandoms and the "rare" fans of this paring I've scoured across google search to find? PLEASE HELP. Thank you. (By the way, I had a note at the end for some crazy pro-Angelique lady that's been bugging me for months and trolling me. I got rid of it. My best deduction is my work is so convincing that she and others have wanted to control what I'm doing. Seriously, they have all their stories already. It's about time we had ours isn't it? ;) **

** Fun commentary, what you might say to a friend if you like the radio drama? Posting that is going to create more. Make it a book club experience. Take care.)**

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_This will start in the T-rating but is *definitely* moving on to the M-rated section. I'm testing this novel out for any required changes as I'm already looking into its publication._

_Many thanks to reviewers and especially Helena and Osheen for helping so much with this revision. Brightest and darkest blessings to all struggling in this sad and vocally neglected realm of Dark Shadows re-creations._

_And any previous guest reviewer to the older run of this story I also welcome. I do much better in temper with feedback over silence and I appreciate the courage of the smutty people greatly. I think that has more to do with love than with sex. ;)_

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_"Life after death is as improbable as sex after marriage."_ -Mrs. White (Clue 1985)

_"Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." -_Sherlock Holmes

And with these two quotes, I'd like to show that life after death, and sex after marriage, is both probable, plausible and extraordinarily beyond that… wonderful.

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Chapter One: The Wedding Day

As many of my friends and family knew, this was not a day they needed to share with us, but I wanted them to. I wouldn't request it, I wouldn't promote it as my beloved so insisted, but they were more than welcoming. I believe they knew what was happening. It's good to know that through all the ages we weren't as lost anymore, nor as shallow as many outside us have believed. We were ourselves now and able to live the days in more matter of fact realms, and more importantly in love.

Somehow the nervousness that had reached me earlier wasn't with me now. Perhaps it was because my bride hadn't entered the chapel yet. I anticipated her. I knew they'd worked a long time on recreating Josette's wedding dress and considering its sinister history, I was happy for a re-creation… such as my bride, Maggie Evans was. Long of almost auburn locks, velvet of lashes upon her brown eyes, and aquiline of face, did I know my Josette in her? Oh, didn't I? The reconstruction of a new dress, with new fabrics, from the original design of the old. How fitting it was. And how lovely in all of this design, the dress, the rings Willie had done so well to create for us, the home we were rebuilding together, nothing so marvelous as this re-creation of a human being: Josette Dupres.

In The Old House we'd gone over the paper work and our ghostly relation, in all his stark sense of irony, had chosen this new name and her father had approved. Oh… what did I know of these times I'd awoken into? I must allow those around me more providence in understanding these things, and I did. As I've said continually, repeatedly, I would do _anything_ to have her and give her… myself. I kept asking her if she was sure, if she was certain. As you know my history, the history of Barnabas Collins, many things changed and often for the worse, the dreadful, and the dead. I didn't want her to change her mind later. I didn't want to disappoint her.

She gave me that beautiful smile of old and new; A nod down, a look up at me. I marvelled at her answer, "After all we've been through, Barnabas? What if I were to disappoint you? Do you think that doesn't scare me, even a little?"

Well, if anyone knows this kind of love or anything close, you can easily imagine the length this argument went on for: "But**_ I_** am not worthy… but what of I?" And on and on… until:

"What did I have to look forward to that could ever be close to this?" she said, in her abrupt, laughing manner… the same, so the same of all three women: Maggie Evans, Kitty Soames, Josette Dupres.

"Think long and hard about that, Maggie," I requested, "I've been very forceful and very horrible and very ashamed-"

"-and adoring," she interjected, "and looking for me in so many other women," then with a clack of impatience, "does no one remember me? What _I_ want in all of this? Barnabas Collins… after all that we've been through… don't you remember me?"

A breath of assurance, "I do. You understand my caution, Jo—" I stalled at her name.

She breathed and used her tender voice, "Go ahead… don't be afraid. We all have more than one name… _mon demón_." She smiled. It was a loving tease and I would expect to be called it for years, decades and dare I say it, centuries? I supposed I ought to get used to it.

"Josette… what I want now, more than anything is … never… _never_ to harm you… never to leave you. As I've been guilty of so many times."

"And that was all of your fault, was it?" she asked suddenly.

I looked down upon her, adoring her in all her renewed glory and appeal to me, "I am to blame… Maggie… you must understand why I want to be careful. I've wanted Josette for so lon—"

"I _am_ Josette." Maggie almost shouted, quickly, sharply, "if you wanted to be cautious then stop referring to me in third person as though I'm not standing before you right here. Don't you think it hasn't been hard enough for me coming to terms with that and what I want? That I want you? That I want what was never to occur according to the fool actions around us in this place? Doesn't that matter to anyone other than Pop and I? Barnabas Collins?"

She said this as a question for me to answer.

"Yes?" I asked her in return, hopefully.

She stared hard into my eyes, "I've never been surer. And yes, I believe I deserve something easier and richer to handle… _with_ you. Do you want me to incarnate myself endlessly just to have this? I understand… none of us have been kind; none of us has sheltered each other very well… I should know. I've gotten the brunt of most of it in the end…"

I stepped toward her, taking her hands, "And never deserved it."

"And have you? I remember how hard we fought to bring me into this. And why do you think that was? Because you cared about me. You were worried I'd say no, or that I'd said no. I admit I could be childish, Barnabas. But not anymore. Trust me… I want this…" she slipped her hands up my shoulders, and coursed fingers through my hair, "And… you're making it very difficult to wait until tomorrow."

I exhaled with her and responding to her embrace with my own, fed myself with her kiss as she fed from mine. Something there created an echo of the ocean waves so much farther than either of us could usually hear and I remembered what we'd been given to make it permanent: Everlasting Life. The possibility of joy beyond centuries of time, as we'd been waiting so long for this upcoming day. Her breath pushing on my face as mine did toward her. These sounds and moist expressions of love began to create a longing and I knew what she meant. _To wait for tomorrow..._ We pulled apart and I heard myself say,

"Need we wait?"

"Yes," she said, with an ache, "but don't believe for a moment that temptation doesn't creep toward me. It's been coming on me for ages so long."

I looked upon her face, her brown eyes… her beautiful, giving expression and I wanted to combine myself with it. Her tears began and she flatted her cheek against my shoulder as I took her head in my left hand and clutched her tightly, our embrace becoming steadfast and strong. I dropped my lids, our hearts were so close in this standing warmth and we were both mournful, and desirous: fearing for happiness.

There we were, my Josette and I, standing once again in the frame of The Old House, once new that I'd been a young man in, once easier and might be again. But more with what we'd grown to achieve in all of our calamity, and this bride anew, released from her other paramours of the long and unforgotten past, we ready, willing and fresh.

"Could I ever be worthy of you?" I moaned aloud.

"You already are… but there will be troubles we need to work through," she told me, pulling away slightly and looking up. I kissed her fervently and she accepted, stroking my ear.

"What are they?" I asked, breathily.

"You know…" she tried to tell me, "you hurt me and that hurt still dwells deep inside of me and I could be forced to surprise you one night to let it resound and understand what I need to do… to release that pain… are you prepared for that?"

I answered immediately, "I'll do anything to have you, Maggie. I'll endure anything you need to bestow on me for my wrongs to you. Please know that."

"I do," she smiled gratefully, "I do… and don't worry, Barnabas Collins. I _will_ say the same thing… tomorrow… to make you mine."

…

The chapel, now repaired of its ravages through time was consecrated and blessed by a holy man of a newer sect I'd only recently been made aware of: Unitarian. Mr. Evans suggested this as a way of showing example in the multi-faceted conditions we all came through together. Ah, what many things had changed as I lie comatose over a century. Consecration and blessing was insisted on by him considering all of the unscrupulous holy men and factions wandering around Collinwood through the ages, ghostly and otherwise.

Cousin Roger, much easier going these days took a quick nodded grin at my attire, "Well it does suit you, you know, Barnabas Collins. A double line of buttons and Maggie's insistence on black velvet. All the lapels and accoutrements are quite outstanding. Now that many of our cats are out of their proverbial bags around here."

I tried not to smile but I couldn't help it, "I think you said it best, Roger. What more shame do we press upon all our wrongs by dwelling in remorse and self-pity? It's true, this only perpetuates more ills to be bred among us."

"Mnn," Roger hummed, " or what Elizabeth's Leslie questioned when it came to sources of Witchcraft. Why be so guilt-ridden and judgemental over it? Let David play with a crystal-ball, and allow ourselves a smirk at old Countess Dupres' fiddling with tarot cards. Sorcery of any kind is only bad when it slights the good in us."

"Yes," I told him gratefully.

"Looks to be a packed set of pews, old man," Roger said with a glance over my shoulder, "I can see Julia let her hair grow out again."

"That's because the good Professor prefers it that way. What a woman can choose when given the encouragement required. I pray I'm well endowed with that grace for my own bride."

"Well, Barnabas Collins" Roger said, "if you're not, I'll eat my hat."

He left me in this bemusement to sit beside his sister.

...

We stood at the front of the aisle, Willie Loomis, my groomsman, as well natured as I'd never imagined and Carolyn awaiting her duties as bridesmaid. Victoria had been the first choice but she then reflected how she'd rather be able to sit from afar and enjoy the ceremony in all its splendour. No doubt she'd take to writing all the details down with her appreciation of our family's history, and of course, if you'll permit me a wink, her own.

There was my cousin David and my sister Sarah in her ability to reach this far with the help of others. How it created a mist to my eyes to see her dropping rose petals to consecrate the aisle. The glow on my family's faces to accept her and wink at her as she nodded back with a gentle grace, the grace I'd tried to teach her but never had to, for she possessed it on her own.

So there we stood. I almost didn't hear the music playing as my bride stepped forward toward me, as I'd always wanted. And the lovely enactment of the past playing tricks on us: her father walking with her, the same father in spirit as she was the same spirit of my bride from so long ago. I could have blushed with the thoughts that came into my mind as I looked at her dress and thought of her tonight… without it.

But judge me not too harshly. My heart also belonged in the realm of faith that we were to enjoy each other company. To have conversations we'd never had but longed to, to share each other's concerns and puzzles sitting in front of the fire. To comfort each other's troubles that would hopefully be far milder than they had been across the years, but nonetheless important. This was what we wanted and I was happy, glad of heart to see Maggie Evans looking towards me as Josette Dupres and not with that empty, hypnotized stare she'd had when I was doing her harm. She looked at me with all the love and desire and her own happiness; that kind face and the autumn eyes of who she really was.

When the Minister asked, "Who gives away this bride?" her father announced, "Neither do I lose nor give away my daughter, but present her to make her own choice."

Ah, would Andre Dupres have said that so many years ago? I think he wouldn't have, which makes this union so much more wondrous than it would have been. And so she took my hand and I'm afraid I melted within the warmth of her eyes while the Minister was speaking his pronouncements of what the Heavens might bring, no doubt including sermons and conditions we'd agreed to be spoken, it was that earthy light I looked into as she stared into mine. What glories awaited us this evening when we would finally complete each other and discuss the endless possibilities of that completion?

At last young David presented us with the rings. This was a new concept to me, but a welcome one. I wondered when it changed that we both would wear rings rather than only her. But that was what I had wanted: Change. And with her a change of the centuries, and with I, a change to my agonizing life. I slipped the band on along where her engagement ring already was. Next she slipped a ring upon me, an odd sensation considering the one I'd been wearing for so long. I'd placed the onyx on my right hand today. I didn't want it to mar what I would see when she brought this new ceremony to me.

It was asked if there was any objection to this union. There was silence at first and then a strange occurrence… laughter. It was low at first, but then the giggles seem to catch on among our friends who had been watching us, particularly Elizabeth. Objection, they seemed to ask. Hadn't there already been far more than enough?

At last my cousin Carolyn belted out the words, "HARDLY! Get the two of them married for Heaven's sake!"

The Minister announced the vested authority he bequeathed on us to bring us that much closer and I tasted her… but more than that, for she opened her lips and guided me into a world of unspeakable passion and memories flooding over us as the vocal reactions merely grazed our ears, loud as they were. Stranger still was a certain sharpness on her teeth, the cuspids that had given me the only bite of this kind I ever willing accepted. And yet the sun streamed in through windows both of plain and stained glass. A certain relation showed us how this was possible. I felt her in my arms and her hands about me and an echo of the merest thought flittered through my mind, "Are you happy now, my love?"

I was kissing her still, but wondering how she had done this. What had happened to us as we took this step into an eternal bond for what could last as many centuries as we'd been apart? I pulled away, looking into her softly smiling eyes.

"Yes," she seemed to be telling me, "the long wait… is over."

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_Don't forget, this next chapter will be going to the M-rated pile. _(which means "Dude, it's adult.") _If anyone remembers all the other chapters they are revised, and enhanced. For the most part it'll go over most peoples heads. I made sure to keep it away from vulgar language. When I channeled this couple I realized they would only make diaries of their lovemaking as Thackeray or Austen might do. If you are a romantic, don't be afraid. Thanks._

_Ah... I'm seeing a little trepidation in what's being read. People seem to skip chapter 2 and then see chapter 3 and think.. OOPS! That's still a little too intimate... When I channeled these two what I saw was almost two centuries of trying to reach each other and then finally doing so... well, these two are crazy about each other from what I could deduce. So, okay, so here are the non-bedroom-intimate chapters:_

_Chapter 4: Josette Speaks (Sorry, I'll work on this one.)_

_Chapter 5: Sharing The Past (This one is super sweet and I'd love some reflection, especially when they sit on the bench.) _

_Chapter 7: Other Reactions (This is their butler in POV, very humourous.)_

_Chapter 8: The Whom of Many_

_Chapter 10 - 12_

_Chapter 16_

_Chapter 21_

_Chapter 22_

_# 24 -28, &amp; 32_

_Then the birth scenes: # 34, 35 &amp; 36_

_# 37 shows the romance between this couple in all Maggie could accomplish being a reincarnation of Josette du Pres._

_(The numbering is a little off because I have that author's note, so I just threw in the numbers instead of official chapter numbers. Enjoy?)_


	2. Chapter 2: The Wedding Night

Pit of Ultimate Spoiler Notes (which you are welcome to skip): Upon analyzing this set of stories further I think I understand this fear gained by Barnabas. The unbelievable concept that he could finally have this bride through remarkable circumstances leaves him in a vulnerable state of affection.

Considering Josette went over Widow's Hill under circumstances of decisions he made, but weren't necessarily his fault, shows himself to be a monster. Returning 170 odd years afterward, having lost cognizance over all the details and likely a full memory of Josette (again I fill in continuity gaps) Maggie Evans was originally a symbolic trophy of Josette rather than the real thing, and thus in his madness he kidnaps her, trying to brainwash her into what little he can recall of his Josette.

In "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" this yearning is revisited in a hypnosis regression where Maggie has trouble recalling that she IS indeed Josette as it is blocked by the repressed kidnapping. The two recollections conflict with one another. Before she can go back to that time period where Josette perished in 1795 she has to face the fact of being kidnapped, which had been blocked by Dr. Hoffman. After this is faced, her identity as Josette comes out.

With these factors in tow he has to earn forgiveness from this double, (or triple) entity of his love. Upon achieving this he is completely at her mercy, accepting this fate willingly.

And, as any complex woman who's reached that far might do, she takes advantage of it. :) (Happy Valentine's Day)

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_Songs recommended for this chapter:_

_"Sakrileg" by Stoa &amp; "Consecrated Lover" by Aurora Sutra_

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Chapter Two: The Wedding Night

_"Even if I were to leave Collinwood tomorrow, I know that my feelings would not change. Wherever I go I would think of you. I would always have to fight that urge to come back to try and find you. That's why I know it's useless for me to think of leaving... you could not stay away because you know our destinies are one. That there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can keep us apart. ... I've dreamed about it for so long. I don't care about those things that I don't understand. Those things you said about our new life together. I only want to be with you. Don't let me go. Please, take me with you... Barnabas, _please_ take me with you." – Josette Dupres _

_(DS Episode 420, Written by Gordon Russell)_

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When I entered Her it was the beginning of the most engrossing passion of my life… and when I say my _life_, I do admit to having this encompass who I am from the end of a scepter most obvious and to the provisions of a love most grand.

Of course, when we had stepped into this room, she knew that to have me there with her, was to remember an incarnation she knew and remembered easily. What else would this existence be for? To engage in an act so deep and bewitching... That's what we were here for… of course…

It _was_ her room; the proof had been made clear. She was the same girl that I loved so long ago, not only in her looks, or in her very flesh, but her soul had spoken the truth. Josette _had _come back to me. I had not been so absurd to incarnate her in my mind, just a terrible fool compelled with bloodlust and a long absence of being alive, to see how to bring her out again. Others had to make this possible, and in this way, I know now, I am not alone, was not alone. And here she was again, for me, _for us_.

The door was shut, the candles were lit and the fire ablaze as we stood before each other, shuddering, saying nothing... There were no words to say. She smiled not, but her mouth opened and I saw what long ago had horrified us both... the sharpened teeth... her teeth... glints of moisture exposing something I never believed I'd expect from her, though somehow I welcomed it: a pearl barbed beauty. And yet... she had them not to feed upon the innocent, but mainly to feed upon me.

What once had cursed us, now altered, had blessed us.

She looked at my neck and I feared a violent move but no, she was removing the cloth from my throat, undoing whatever buttons there were along me with a determined fever and I began on her clothes in the same manner, whatever I could find to untangle from her wedding gown, fearing I'd tear it apart in the passion that had gained heavily on us as we had come hand in hand up the stairs. All objects from her hair came loose and fell to the floor. My nature was to place these articles somewhere carefully but there was no time to be lost, regardless of eons we had to enjoy each other in the future.

I had to yield down my arms to help her remove my coat and shirt. All was dropping on the floor and she began a half kneel to pull off more. I caught the sleeves of her dress as she lifted her arms up. I twisted my hands into the cuffs and pulled. The cloth coursed over her well shaped fingers, the nails now much sharper than they had ever been. I watched as her misty features slipped from under the last of this larger garment and revealed her divine face to me once more. She stood up again only in her slip.

With her brown hair, almost auburn and her form, so beguiling I took all in my hands and possessed her, as she had never let me possess her before. Still, it was up to her to dictate all of this, her pleasure being far more important than mine. The point is, that she had forgiven almost all I had done and… perhaps was prepared to chain _me_ as I had chained her and I was ready for it. Believe me.

The fear I had… was uncertain. I most likely deserved anything I received, after threatening punishment so much, but at this point I could not care less. I wouldn't mind being wrestled to the ground and whipped as I deserved... _by Her_. Now however, I only felt pangs of further longing as her hands had taken me at the waist and she pressed her fingers in there, then released them.

She allowed me to let loose from this tension as I clenched at the front of this last garment between us. I stopped and she gave me a slow nod, the strength in her gaze telling me what to do. I reached both hands now in this grip and whatever this silky material had been was torn apart, floating away as our breathing marvelled at the stillness that came after. We were revealed before each other now, once only in spirit and now in flesh.

Yet I looked not away from her face. I reached for her, sliding my hands around her there, coursing fingers under her hair as she embraced me tightly. Kissing her, I closed my eyes and knew no need to gaze on her body now that it was pressed all over mine.

The incessant love I felt for my once lost Josette, was imploding on destiny toward this new bride, who was both _her_ and Maggie Evans. And I sensed an unknown temptation of scintillation upon every aspect of my skin. What cared I for the blood of other mortals… when the blood of her inner soul was all that mattered to me?

We held each other and our lips more than touched, colliding and pursuing each other, but she was unveiling something more as our hearts quickened. She stepped me to the right and about so that I was almost falling backward onto the sheets and blankets that had been turned down.

Then she bit me with rage, and shackled me to her bed with her fists… and all that was glorious in it is unknown to any other mortal… not that *I* was that, of course. And neither was She at this point. She felt down my front with her hands and lips and a sharp pain took me on one side below. As she drained the blood from my hip I cried out in ecstasy… but that was only the beginning.

As my loins sprang to life, she licked the wounds she inflicted and I could only stare through the lace of her canopy, into the cracks of the ceiling and wonder. Had it really been so long? So long that this house had stood without so much love and drawn out with so many moaning ghosts? Oh… but **would** they ever moan as _I_ was moaning now?

She now laid above me and we were one. In and out I flowed within her, the place where all life might begin, if I hadn't been so cursed to see it at the neck instead, but rather down below. She knew and will always know, what could please me. I _had_ known that! My pulse throbbed with the intensity as she came upon me and we kissed… She responded violently, smarting my lips, but I welcomed it, her ivory pale legs wrapping around me in the thrust and jab of all that meant total completion between us.

I caressed her ribs and all _nearby regions__,_ not only her maternal flesh, but any surrounding there. Her sternum between, shoulders and gorgeously perfect clavicle I harnessed and slid my hands over, enjoying the belief and disbelief of all that we were sharing. She had her own tones of approval, leaning to kiss me, as she absorbed my breath in the inhale of a whisper, draping the soft linens over us.

As I felt her skin I speculated her beauty, her expression. She was pleased... and, dearest Heavens above... she was pleased... with me.

Of course, there was only firelight in this room, but it illumined her precious lips, which glistened upon my sight and intoxicated me further. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't. To look upon this love of which I'd desired so ceaselessly, as I'd pined so longingly, and finally _had_… after suffering the long awaited forgiveness only she could allow me. And of course, I had to release all inhibition of being in _any_ control. It was her, and her alone who could be in control… of _me._

What did I care, though? As we rolled off the bed and throughout the room, colliding from wall to wall, from one furnishing to another… all cares melted away, and her softly gasping laughter echoed with the fall of the objects from her vanity table… not that she was vain… Oh no! _I'd_ prepared those things for her. And she had proven to me… that all she cared about… was _I_… and the delectation of our long awaited joy… as this was so obvious to me now… and… as we cascaded within each other, thanking each other, loving each other.

Along the floor we twirled and spun… the bed-clothes trailing around us, her upon me and surrounding me… and I within her, clenching her at the waist… adjusting to the furthest reaches of her _inner beauty_, as she clawed at my scalp, then ran her fingers down my neck and sank her teeth into my shoulder.

And her herald: Josette, though identical to her in beauty, and very likely, though not to my knowledge, also like her in the act of love... or perhaps the act of lust? But what is the difference in this instant? A combination of beauty assailed me as we suckled upon each other's flesh. There had been modesty earlier… but tonight? …not a trace could be found between her nor myself as we dined in passion on one another.

Of course, what else would be expected when we rolled close to the hearth fire and ignited ourselves so near of its flame that the sparks singed our skin? What sweet pain it was, too. Had we not already bruised each other with what had come before? What a comfort it would be to sooth the wounds inflicted by a love so divine?

Beside the fireplace we'd managed together to slide her back up along the paneling between it and the window. Her knees a firm embrace around my middle... my yearning never ceasing, my passion growing worse.

AND… when I had penetrated her so deeply in that place… that our lovemaking finally shook the portrait off the wall? Did she care? No… _she laughed_… for that painting was **not** her… _she_, the true her, was there, and I was within her and she was encompassing me so completely. And that was _all_ she cared about.

Hearing her strong inhale I halted and we stared at each other. Her clasp below maintained and her arms wrapped around my shoulders, burrowing my face into her neck, but I would take nothing there, only carry her back to her bed where we would continue and did.

There may have been no Maggie Evans at all, if I had not loved that Miss Dupres, and met her again over a century later and known this fiery devotion for both. Ha! Of course, _is it not_ like a man, to want more than _one_ woman? And is it not easier for one to enjoy the pleasures of _two_ at once, like this?

One might resent me for enjoying this so thoroughly… but thankfully, who I was with… both in spirit and in _body_ and with intensity… _loved me_… and even if she wanted to chain me down, or lacerate me with either a branding or perhaps simply her exquisite cuspids, I cared not… as long as she stroked me, as long as she loved me… as long as she lovingly hurt me with a pain so unyielding as to set my sinews aflame.

...

"And what did you think of that?" I asked later, as we lay in each other's arms upon her bed, "shall you tell me?"

"As we sit in the dark, Barnabas," she answered, "and you let me whisper… I will."

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_I know the box below is somehow daunting but if all you have to say is "YIKES!" ... well... I heartily agree! :)_


	3. Chapter 3: What We Whispered

_For this chapter, we continue to explore the wedding night after their climactic enjoyment when first stepping into the room and allowed to consummate their marriage. If you notice the tool bar above these words and below the summary, there are a few useful icons to alter the size and style of the text (A+, A-, A, then width, line spacing and my favourite the half-moon symbol.) Of these 6 icons the one on the right will adjust the page so that the text will be white on black instead of black on white, which is rather glaring. Can't believe I didn't figure it out after all of this time. Hope that helps._

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_Suggested songs for this chapter: "My Inner Labyrinth" and "La Luna Blanche" by Stoa_

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Chapter 3: What We Whispered

_"I know that you are dead but still you are alive. I'm not afraid of death, only of living without you. I'm yours. There's no ceremony that could make me more your wife."_

_"You are my wife, yes, as you were always meant to be."_

_Josette Dupres &amp; Barnabas Collins (DS Episode 421 Written by Sam Hall)_

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As you recall, my bride answered my question that first night we were together at last. I'd asked her what she thought of what happened when she dominated me completely, allowing me some grasping, some tantalizing touches upon her hips to bring us closer; a union I'd longed for with every inch of my being, with every breath in my lungs, all the yearning of my soul. More disbelief resounds in me to be able to explore her fascinating body, renewed from the ravages of her fall from Widows Hill, into something more beautiful than she ever was before: a woman of kindness, refinement and power. The three elements of womanhood combined to create my Margar_ette_. She has the gentility of my Josette and _is_ my Josette, along with the austere boldness of Lady Hampshire, my Kitty Soames, and the determined distaste for abusive nonsense as my Maggie Evans was born with, as all of them.

Her breath was soft and rich along my face as I held her. _Dare I actually hold her?_ We wore nothing but the bedclothes and our bands of silver and gold (yes, the blended metals as on my cane). Resting side by side... propped up against bolsters filled with feather down, her right arm about my back as my left was around hers. One would think I was sated entirely by this trysting we'd had, but no. I was relieved but I wanted her all the more as her first whisper to me was, "We'll never be done..."

"Oh, my bride... Tell me," I exhaled shakily.

"Which one of me do you want to speak?" she teased.

"No, " I said, "please don't taunt me with that, Maggie, please."

Even in the low light of the candles and fire she faced me. I could see her eyebrow raise and the delight at the corner of her smile, "You're all mine now, Barnabas Collins..." here a light laugh, "I can do whatever I _like_ with you."

And I knew she could.

A new experience for me, to be controlled willingly, not coerced. My own desires enchanted into being and to be wanted by the one that I wanted. To be sanctified in holy wedlock, and combined with her, having consummated that union.

I could not smile. She terrified me so. I struggled through all the ages to have her, to be blessed with a kind heart out of all the wickedness I'd fallen to pursue from my curse, to earn her respect and her love again, to be Hers. In all of it I never thought I would receive something even more than all I'd seen and known. It _was_ her. It was _truly_ her, the woman I'd fallen in love with, but in this journey we were more, much more.

"Our souls have not made peace, _mon demón_," she said quietly. I was once vexed by this pet name she called me, but _now?_ I held it to my breast like a jewel whenever she uttered it.

"Speak to me, my love," I begged my bride, "tell me all..."

"It is our souls bonded to this flesh, isn't it, Barnabas? Can it be flesh alone that makes my skin tingle, almost sting with desire?"

I knew what she meant. I felt it too.

"Did you feel any power against that wall?" she questioned, pointing with her eyes where we'd turned the fallen portrait away. She didn't want her old-self to stare at us anymore tonight.

"Power? Perhaps an endowment of _yours_ all over me, Josette Dupres." I admitted with some confidence.

"But no power to enforce me with anything?" she asked.

"Don't you know?" I expressed, lowly, doubtfully, clasping my hand at her waist beneath the bedclothes, and a thrilled clasping it was for me.

"I do, but I wanted to hear you define it," she eyed me wickedly.

"I felt commanded by you to throw us there... though we weren't there long. I was more than willing. I've been tricked to show love before, but hardly seduced as you've managed to take from me... and _to give_."

My bride was very pleased, lowering her chin and pushing her determined stare into mine, "I _did_ command you... and... it looks like you approve... _don't_ you?"

"How could I not?" I asked, truthfully, "In all my years, decades, over seventeen of them, _for you?_ Can anyone deny how you've set my soul on fire with this blissful torment? And now... we've achieved it."

A dark thrill bloomed on her exquisite face, "Oh no, we haven't."

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"There will be moments when we achieve it, but they move in time like our love for each other... like my passion towards you, my husband."

She took my right hand that was resting on her hip under the soft sheets, she moved it slowly and in a petrified hunger I watched as it revealed her to me, rising over the untainted skin about her stomach, the furrows along her rib cage and then I breathed in a low excitement as she pressed my hand on her bosom.

"Do you feel my heart?" she almost demanded in her quiet words, a whisper stabbing the dark.

"I..." faltering, I tried to answer, "I feel more than that, of course." I was rising beneath the bedclothes again. She seemed to be lost in beguiling me, knowing she could dictate my desires yet still wanting answers to questions, ideas of which I was unsure. _Answer simply, damn it_, I tried to tell myself. But to be so silent now, so quiet, so focused on this spot. _Her heart and more..._

"I feel it."

"The same heart... for you, Barnabas. The same love for you. The same vibration in my flesh for yours and my soul to yours..."

I blinked wondering, marvelling, feeling her pulse in my fingers.

"And what would it have been like if I had bitten you that night? If I had finally turned you into the same creature I was then?" I asked, thinking of when I was so much younger and she was only one woman.

"We didn't know, did we?" she told me, "We didn't know there were other ways to be. Less resolution, so many more absolutes... back then. But the pounding remains, a simple idea. Our longing for each other... don't you agree?"

"Yes," I said, "Of course I do... You are the one, Margaret Dupres, the only one who knows and now with all of your knowledge, you know how to help me and to help all of us."

Her smile became gentle, less dark and pinched, "Perhaps. I'm not that self-assured."

How she could afflict me and perhaps ought to do. Steadfast in my determination to always be true to her, to the point of ludicrously believing I could invoke her in women who were not her, even into a dominion of forcing a porcelain likeness on someone who had secretly always been Her.

Margaret Josette Dupres.

She had taken this name upon our marriage as had been suggested. And... I'd thrown convention to the winds for this delight. Centuries ago I'd grown in this house, saw its gloomy austerity and wanted it changed. Then I saw Josette Dupres and knew that it could be changed. After everything else, I felt her breast, the pulse and the heat coming from it, my fingers pressing into her chest as it throbbed for us and our union. Even more I saw the glint on her hand over mine, the band that symbolized all this as she pressed my palm onto her thews.

"Don't you?" she uttered, "I think you feel more than what is in your hands?"

I tried to breathe, but her presence was so stifling to any inhalation I could derive.

"I do, Josette, but" I dared to asked, "please, tell me... what is it... you want... out of all of this... right now?"

She slid her hand along my side, "Must I tell you? I want your comfort, your adoration and the generosity I know is there..."

"You have that already..." I told her, grazing her face with my own.

"Oh no, I don't... otherwise you would have clutched at where I'd shown you minutes ago."

That's when I knew. She wanted to make love again... and likely again for weeks in this room, wherein we'd wanted and waited, perhaps I alone most of the time... but she told me, in all of the terrible circumstances wherein I'd locked her away, her own ghost was calling out to her, my sister was calling out to her, and she was calling out to herself, so sadly and wondering why I couldn't simply let her relax and ask, "Are You The One?"

I did as she bid... I clutched and she exhaled lovingly with a plea. I'd dispelled my thoughts in all of the confusion, but when she reached for my face, I went to kiss her at first, but her grip turned away my chin and I knew what she was asking me. My hand opened wider and I leant my head to her breast and fed. She inhaled excitedly, and I massaged her around the ribs of her mammary. Suckling tenderly her exquisite womanhood above as I'd so longed to do but was too afraid. Now she was asking, inviting, pleading, and I could never say no. I could speak no word from my mouth so filled with her beauty now. Her gasping breath in this only excited me further and I tried to envelope even more of her maternal flesh into the only opening I had to offer.

"Take me," she commanded, "please, enter me again, my love."

I continued at her breast and moved above her. Her hands didn't want to let go so the time I spent on her motherly beauty distracted me a little as I made good to move above her to do as she requested... no..._ demanded_ what I do. To feel her again? To be within her again? Why on earth would anyone think I would object? They must be far madder than I **ever** was.

I had to let go of her chest and longed to press my lips to hers, which I did. At first her hands were at my face, but then reached down to slip me inside of her and we breathed together in awe of each other. Kissing, inhaling, bonding, filling each other in this room likely flooded with pheromones in all the attempts to place her in it. As I pursued my love into her, blended with her fiery kisses, her caresses along my ribs, I found this startling thought: of all her incarnations standing, adoring and even tortured in this place, the felicitous occurrence that all three were at last woven together here and I... engorged in the flesh of their combination. One woman, one soul, three lifetimes... but the analysis escaped me again as I felt her inside and out. My precious sleeping beauty now awake, alive and resolving in our unity.

I clasped my hands around the back of her shoulders, to hold her and to move her closer, feeling her, trusting she knew what I was telling her as I grew within her, thinking far back to when she asked me to tell her I didn't love her so long ago. I could never tell her that. I wished to tell her again how I love her, but my lips surrounded her at the throat instead, as we continued the rocking, melding and motion as one.

Josette inhaled, almost gasping up to the headboard in exoneration of her feelings. Her stomache against mine, I leant down to her chest again, but she groped at my face, "No..." a whisper and a scream, "no..." quieter now, "too much, please, just kiss me."

I did, and her return was slow. The rhythm below increased, then decreased and became gentle and she opened her lips in our kiss. It was similar to what she'd done after we were announced husband and wife only hours before. She only opened slightly, to wrap her lips upon mine and create the action in I to do the same.

Had it only been hours? Hours ago, not even a day, and our universe had changed from wonder to destiny, from craving to knowing, from all the horrors bestowed us to something so beautiful that to behold it brings a splendour indefinable... even in I.

I felt a love from her lips, down my center and toward where we were combined sexually, beautifully, unconditionally now. Bracing myself higher, I drew the side of my hand down from her neck, along her chest, toward her abdomen.

"Yes," she said, "I feel it. I feel it... as well."

"I am grateful," I said, " to be so close, to be with you. As obvious as this is... may I tell you?"

"Please," she answered.

"I love you, Josette Dupres."

My beautiful, precious bride smiled, "And I love you... Barnabas Collins."

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_And how did they wake up the next day? Let me know if you want to find out! :) (Actually it's the publication of this novel that's making me so nervous to post chapters without reviews. A few chapters will be missing because publishing firms aren't too hot on publishing anything that's already been seen online for free, so when we get there I'll summarize each. They'll be like the "bonus tracks" on a compact disk.)_


	4. Chapter 4: Josette Speaks

_As in that old quotation from William Congreve's "The Mourning Bride" (1697)_

_"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,_  
_Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."_

_I'd like to add, that perhaps, Paradise has no glory, like a woman satisfied._

_(Thank you, Helena for "Paradise" when I used to say "Heaven".)_

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Chapter 4: Josette Speaks

When I awoke I almost asked Pop if the coffee was made yet, and then I blinked. Oh, yes, I smiled, that's right. I'm married now and I live here, in my old room from so long ago. I turned to find Barnabas... but he wasn't there. I panicked into wakefulness.

"Where-?!"

"I'm here, Maggie. I'm right here," his rich voice softly calmed me, "it's all right. I thought of getting dressed and going for a walk but I wouldn't leave you. Not after everything. Not the first morning."

He was sitting in front of the fire but his chair was turned toward me. His elbow set on the ornate armrest and hands clasped together, gazing at me with that loving gaze some could confused with a dreary stare. I knew it so well, and I adored it.

I looked about the room. The portrait was still turned away. Many of the items we'd strewn from their places were put back in order. Did he do that? I finally asked him as I looked about.

"Yes," he answered, "I did. It was fitting to do. I preferred tending to it than have anyone else step into the room. You aren't exactly sheltered from sight... my wife."

My wife. The title chilled my innards. Connected by ceremony and consummation now... I was thrilled by that truth as he spoke it.

Covering myself under the sheets, I sighed, relaxing, "Well, why didn't you stay in bed with me?"

"I did," he answered, "I did for an hour or so. You know... my caresses seemed to please you, even in your sleep." And here there was a glow, almost a smile.

"Did they? Couldn't keep your hands off of me, could you?" I teased.

"No," he answered, and his lighter expression was removed, "and I was worried. I know bad dreams have haunted you before. I didn't want them to interrupt the sleep you needed."

"Wanted to make sure I was relaxed, Barnabas?" I grinned.

"Does that displease you?"

"No," I said, "but you know my sense of humour. I'm very touched... but I suppose with you," I lowered my voice, "I was going to be."

He stood up, his long black robe reaching to his ankles and wavering as he slowly stepped around the bed, holding on to a post, reaching the opposite side to where I sat and staring at me with those hazel eyes.

"Margaret Josette Dupres... you are a wonder," he told me softly and then sat beside me, taking my hand, "as beautiful to behold in the morning as in the night."

"Is it still morning?" I asked, practically.

"Only just. About half-past eleven."

"What?" I asked in surprise, "Did I sleep that long? I should get up right now and-"

"And what?" he interrupted my sudden change, "Hurry on to the day? Rush off to work? Forget what happened yesterday? Always running away from idleness, Maggie Evans."

It was his turn to tease me.

I laughed, "You have a point, my dear. How could I forget last night?"

"Think about it too much and it'll continue," he breathed.

"Isn't that what a honeymoon is for?" I asked.

"Is that what this is? We haven't gone anywhere."

"Yes we have," I pointed out, "we come forward in time. How's that for a get away?"

"Josette, you are a marvel," he smiled.

"Don't compliment me," I said, reaching towards him, "just kiss me."

He did and that melting down my center began to stir.

...

Now I look at the page as I pen these details. It was such a beautiful morning. From all that occurred the previous night, a ravish of adoration and then a relish of it later on. His love filled me so and my heart brimmed with compassion and trust. How horrible it all must have been for him. I've been so very proud at what he accomplished. My feelings for him obviously never changed. I kept coming back to the same places, across oceans of water and oceans of time. I must smile now. I finally was born in the right place; Collinsport.

...

Perhaps I am not Josette of old, but as he knows me now. And when I say he knows me, should I describe all the corners and crevices… the sensory and prescience of not just my body… but my very soul? For it is all one, when it comes down to it. Though I'd love to recount just how it's all been explored.

As I've been made to look upon so many people, it isn't so difficult to reconcile who I am with so many others. _I've_ had to peruse the darker aspects of human nature, both in my long hours as a waitress and between other worlds. You see, I _do_ understand other people, and as my husband says, I don't like to be idle.

However, the shocking realization of being so much more dominates my mind at times. I see Collinwood so much differently, although it is in keeping with my dreams as a little girl. No wonder the estate gave me a sense of dread. I saw Collinwood in flashes of varying beauty and horror. It would change on me to be ornate and shadowed in different ways. My eyes weren't playing tricks on me, my soul was remembering being here twice before. Old visions of it would impose themselves over the modern and the connection was fragmented... as I was.

Coming into being a combination was startling at first, but the more I aligned myself with what I experienced, a long life stretched before me as one and each change reminds me again of all my own changes in this lifetime alone. Are any of us the same as a child to who we are growing into adulthood? Something still retains as we all carry forward. I've looked at it like that. My life as Josette continues and has blossomed into the type of woman that makes sense for Barnabas now. Shared pain, long spells of tragedy, urges set forth through six generations of family history, and a love so strong I kept coming back.

But was this intentional? Pappa seems to believe so. He remembers even more of what the universe unfolds around us whereas I mostly retain what happened in the physical realm. Pop... Pappa? Why did we never guess on that one? Still, that makes sense, too. He's always been so philosophical. Perhaps not so much as Pappa, but as Pop a truer nature stands out.

So much has happened to me it can alarm some that no one wanted to tell my story. I presume they ask how can someone of so little complexity as **_I_** be of any use to anyone? Well, I must take some umbrage at that assumption. I've had to re-live other times as myself. So, you might imagine, that kind of harsh reality can make me pretty unhappy in others assuming its worth-less-ness. Though, when it comes to this town, I don't mind so much as long as I can help everyone. And from what Mr. Loomis has told me, they all appreciate what I might be able to do here.

Yes, I've picked up that odd habit from our other helpmate and find myself calling Willie, Mr. Loomis. He took it in stride at first and then I saw that reflection arise. That grin of his with closed eyes, folded arms, and stance so filled with smirk at times.

"Yeh know," he told me, "I'been called that plenty of times but it ain't like now, is it, Maggie? Why is that?"

"Because we call you that respectfully. Other people likely did it to taunt and look down on you. You've earned too much taking care of us to be spoken to like that anymore."

His understanding of this slowly lit up his expression. He recognized what I was telling him in a mystified repose. How far we had come together and how much farther he'd brought himself to create a better place for us here, and for himself. Ah, Willie Loomis: Once the worst of troublemakers, now, our darling man.

And yes… sometimes I just want to wrap Mr. Loomis in my arms and kiss him tenderly on the cheek, and perhaps I have, but when my husband looks on, he doesn't mind so much. We're all friends here, aren't we? Besides, there's another girl coming to see Mr. Loomis soon. We believe she loves him and he'll be surprised at how he feels about her. That strapping fellow deserves a mischievous girl… and he's going to get one if we have any idea about the matter.

However, I haven't had a chance to tell _my_ story. As you know, I did send more than a glance toward the lover I've been waiting several generations to have. And perhaps, if I hadn't gone through that hypnosis, I may not have known. But I _did_ want him, _before_ I knew all the rest… and afterward, when I had time to reflect, and Barnabas has time to prove he was worth forgiving… I was happy to find out he was able to _prove_ other things to me.

Hmm… and what was that? You have obviously wondered. Well! Oh, the length… the breadth, the ability to do more than satisfy on all points of pleasure. It's his own precious beauty that shows me all we need is a simple flow from Him to me. It's all I need. Although it's not all I get. His love is wide enough, and I am patient to explore what he has to offer. Why else were we all in love with him? I am willing to share the details, hence these memoirs, you know. Why else would I be telling all of this?

Moreover, what of this requited love? He's done more than adore me... for ever so long... but what no one has ever understood is that I felt the same way towards him in return. The forceful side of me has come out more often than anyone took notice of... except Barnabas Collins. We've watched each other struggle throughout nearly two centuries. Thwarted repeatedly, but as I've said, our destinies are one.

How much did I really attack him, as he described? I'm afraid he overshadowed his own lust in describing mine. He can be a bit docile, I admit, but he failed to describe the array of avid caresses he attended to my torso before I soaked my mouth in the blood of his hips. It was obviously a sweet torment to him, I confess, but nothing as to what I felt then, when I knew we were to be joined at last from that moment.

I had no idea how much I would enjoy myself as this new creation, nor the taste of his blood, but after having to return so often and in this new way that wasn't cursed, perhaps staying longer, existing longer and with him was what we needed. The two of us wanted to spend an eternity together. Now that we had that possibility I wondered how it would turn out. One never knows, but the idea of trying was never in question.

You see… he'd waited more than one lifetime, but *I* had waited three… and that's a l-o-n-g time to wait for such yearning. That first night together comes to me in flashes still. The intensity of it began a new memory that haunts but in delightful, thrilling ways, and made us both desire more.

I put him on his back and had to take one bite before I could proceed further. He did nothing at that point and I guided him in… and you may _never_ know the delicious cringe on his face when I enacted it all. Of course, he made a grapple for my chest and all surrounding, as I did in kind. There could never be enough time to probe every particle of each other.

And yes, the painting _did_ fall down… and the frame was lightly singed from the hearth fire, as we were. But I've been considering having a new one made anyway, now that I know all that I am and have been. And he's been wanting that as well, not from such strong desire, but a quaint and subdued curiosity. Still, I was very proud when I could relax and he could take over, and that was how we were thrown against the wall and my old and tormented portrait fell. And I _did_ laugh.

I _have _been so tired of being objectified.

Although, when it comes to that, I have no objections to him fondling my parts, or biting at my ankles, or kissing me all over as I've so ever waited to experience. And as I've responded in kind to _him,_ as well. It really has been a long time. And when it comes to long… I do tell of some gratification he has in this regard.

You may ask, shouldn't I be shy about all of this? Well, I'm not likely to include any of it in holiday letters, no. But a little journal that certain close friends and relations will someday enjoy? That's all right. I've been around too long to concern myself with the display of affections untold. Goodness knows we've all had plenty of violence, and really, which is of higher value? I think my husband knows the answer to that now.

Oh, dear, I have run on more about my reflections than of that next day together, but I see Barnabas across from me penning the same thing. Perhaps he'll put it down more accurately than I could. I'm hoping to enjoy his details of it. It should inspire even more...

He's been so desirous and far more demonstrative of it than he lets on. It's helpful, considering what a complete fool he's been. But I still love him dearly. I only wish he'd been blessed with more street smarts when it comes to these things. But that's all right… I shall teach him. Of course, in my current capacity, I'm the only one… who can.

Still, that might only be because I've had this most recent life-time. As I've told him, perhaps I was so wealthy the other two times, and poor this time around to understand where it would be that monetary help would make the most impact. When I explained that, after we'd imbibed on each other, do you know what he said?

He said, "If my wealth can make any of that easier, it's at your disposal."

"How can you do that?" I asked, "Simply giving me _all_ of what you own… like that?"

And he answered, "Well, you've already given me… _yourself_."

* * *

_And of course, that last bit of dialogue was all I was shooting for when I did the original visualization that came out from the second chapter. Clothes off, it's rather M rated. Clothes on it's simply an observation of a marriage vow._

_You know, I'm really not sure about this one. She talks about the morning after and then various other details, which might work for a journal. I plan to have him continue what happens that next day they spend together. This chapter has always been a tough case. Let me know if I should change anything._


	5. Chapter 5: Sharing The Past

_Further is explored the day after the wedding, walking the grounds and recognizing past troubles, as well as accepting who they are in the spooky realm they call "Home"._

* * *

Chapter 5: Sharing The Past, The Present &amp; The Future

Did not I venture to disclose what I and my beloved might encounter during our second evening together, after I'd discussed and displayed our undertakings for the first? Ah, I shall find the words for that in due course when I focus on what led us there.

I know when she awoke that first morning after we were wed she was suddenly concerned about sleeping in so late, but that would be the way of it now. Rare would be the mornings we'd have. There was daylight for us, but dawns we'd know little of beyond occasionally blinking at their wonder and fading off to sleep. This was splendid considering how the dawn of our lives together unfolded in such a change.

I had known the frightening, though delicious enjoyment of removing Josette's wedding gown, even suffering to destroy the undergarment of it as she had allowed. This was a bold mixture of torrid agony and blissful excitement. In all her passion the sweetness never left her, but her other components, as lovely as the original, were there.

Ah, of something new, it was helping her to _dress_. She showed me all of the new methods to lace her up or latch her clothing. And Maggie did something unique as I watched her in front of her vanity table, now as the mess had been cleaned, that is. She beckoned me to stand closer and then put the hair brush into my hand. I looked at it and then at her uncertainly and she almost laughed, "Go ahead, I've worked through whatever tangles at the end we managed together last night."

I began slowly at the top and then felt the thrush down, not wanting to mar a single filament on her head. I saw through the mirror, (which yes, did reflect us,) that her eyes closed and she was experiencing a certain pleasure from this simple custom. I stood and gathered her tresses underneath, feeling the prickles against my hand as I went down with the strokes from the brush. It strangely enticed me. Could all of this be so? I'd always wondered what would happen but my imagination failed me to understand the possibilities as so many obstacles kept steering us away from this bliss.

As I continued her scent floated to me and I found myself drawing the brown locks away, putting the brush down and pressing my lips to her neck. She took my arms and guided me in the embrace of her.

"Now don't destroy _this_ dress, Barnabas Collins," she warned, "I've been looking forward to wearing it today. A blend of old and new."

"I've noticed that," I said, smiling at her warning, "everyone seems so under-dressed to me but once in a while there are designs that are akin to what we knew."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saying we." She answered.

At last, I wasn't trying to fool myself anymore. With all I had been pressed to understand, she knew this world in all its varying arrays. She knew my questions, but better still she had the answers to them.

The dress itself was arranged from a new pattern, form fitting from the waist up, flowing long in the skirt and a light pattern of tiny flowers, running in separated strips and bordered with vertical lines on white material. The tightness reminded me of her as Kitty, the colour and design reminded me of her as Josette, but of course the modern creation of it was Maggie Evans as all three of them. The sleeves ran down to her elbows with some ruffling spreading outward and the neck was high. A plain collar but a front piece below that had a bib-like quality, striped with trimming of white lace and ineffectual buttons.

The look was delightful but the essence of modern clothing had often perplexed me because of its need to appear functional and helpful, but then turning out to be useless, such as faux pockets which had flaps but no pouch attached. Really, why go through all the bother of sewing it without those additions? Does even our clothing have to be dishonest?

As we stepped out of the door our arms glided together and we noticed patches of clouds creating rays of sunlight blending with the scenery of our home and surroundings.

"What I like best of all is not living at the Main House of Collinwood," she confessed.

"Why is that, my love?"

"I prefer being able to see it. I wasn't all that fond of my rooms there anyway. Too many bad memories. Fighting against myself as Kitty. Aunt Natalie pacing around my bed. Ghosts ruining my sleep. It isn't a wonder I did the same when I was separated from myself. Those memories aren't very nice, but there are a few that have magic."

"Such as?" I questioned, we strolling together.

"Any when I was in your arms, of course. Sarah playing outside or even coming to find me again when things were so horrible between us. One moment that had a strange magic to it... when I was regressed to the kidnapping... I felt terrified, but as I came to remember that, I was also reaching farther back, I was asking, 'Who is Josette?' Then I quivered in this vacuum that was surging towards me, like a silken rope my heart was tugging on, and the memories came back. I had my answer: She's me."

At this point we halted our walk.

"It sounds very painful," I took her by the elbows and she spread her hands along my chest, thoughtful, then looked up and said, "It wasn't. Not until I had to relive my fall. It took so long after that to come back to try again. And then again. Each time that part of me got lost, stretching out and looking for you, my Barnabas."

Here my lips reached the side of her face and found it, soft, smooth and wholesome to the touch.

We continued through this day into the woods between here and Eagle Hill Cemetery. We marvelled at each spot that had come to mean devastation to our lives. Maggie would pull me toward a tree or a rock or any spot that had caused us pain in the past, embrace me and focus her ardor towards me, dedicating each spot in a glory of cleansing it with love. She had a way of sliding her cheek along mine with arms holding me close that brought a spark to my insides and the wavering of what others call butterflies but I call divinity. Such as she was in my arms, the loss of her always bringing anguish to my spirit, to have her now was the grandeur of eternity. The merest thought of not cherishing it was a detestable concept to me.

But when we reached the mausoleum I feared to go in. Josette was not and it made sense. She knew the other realms and that the renewal of her life freed her from the dangers. She opened the gate and as it creaked she gave up laughter, "I'd love to get some WD-40 on these hinges."

"Whatever that is, I believe Willie has mentioned it once to me."

She stepped into the crypt and became even more fervent, "Do you remember when we met here?"

"I remember that I wanted you and felt terrible for it." I admitted.

She stepped towards my mother's plaque, dusted it off with her fingers and blew.

"Dear Naomi Collins," she whispered, "Heavens bless you."

Then she turned about face and came to me with a smile, "What do you feel now?"

I stammered, "I... I don't know. Confusion... perturbation, I suppose."

"What about here? Can we show any amour to this place, my dearest?"

"Anywhere you like, Josette. Anything you want."

Her hands drew up my arms, loosened me at the collar. She wanted to feed again. Resounds of futile worries made a leap for my thoughts, "What would Mother think?" This was interrupted by what my Josette took from me as her teeth enveloped my throat.

The rush of adrenaline sparked through my spine, and flowed along my limbs, reaching from my vitals to a tenderness in my toes. This sensation proved to enhance all pleasures and I held her head as she drank. Not a lot, hardly salacious, just a taste. I wanted to feel shame for enacting this here with her but then she drew away from me licking her lips, "After all we've endured? No more shame, Barnabas. Accept what we are; different. Not always good, as you've said, it sets us apart from others, but accept it... as I have."

I slid my hands up, drawing in at her neck and cradling her jaw, "You don't want me... here... do you?"

She grinned, speaking in laughter, "Oh, no. Not with that caretaker nosing about. Besides, it's dreadfully dusty in here."

She lifted her hands, curling her fingers afore my ears and her lips along mine. I recalled her confession of being a fragmented spirit earlier. Now in the darkness of where we stood with the lying remains of our family, this connection was bittersweet, indeed. _Oh..._ I thought to myself, _yes, she is my wife. We share this now. Family. _I held her precious shoulders, tasted her peach-bud lips and welcomed this description of her. She was my family.

"Yes," she said, "I think I heard that. You felt it very strongly. A new form of communication is beginning between us."

"What did you hear?" I inquired in puzzled curiousity.

She hummed happily, "Nevermind. There's somewhere else I'd like to go now."

Josette lifted the fabric of her long dress slightly, took my hand and we stepped out again, closing the gate together. Walking along the leaf strewn grounds of Eagle Hill we found the spot she was looking for, where her grave was. At her headstone she knelt and looked at it. I knelt on one knee beside her, resting my cane on the ground.

After a while I couldn't help but ask, "What are you thinking of?"

"I'm being thankful... to be here again and with you and not down there. And also grateful I came back unblemished. I looked over some studies. It happens, you know. Some are born with physical scars of their previous lives. I remember how you felt about that when you revived me."

"No, it was not a pretty sight. I deeply regret doing that to you. It was very wrong of me to be so selfish. Now that I know better I'm thankful along with you. Reincarnation looks to have better results than... re-animation." I admitted, somewhat ashamed at this memory and I kissed her hand.

Her soft repose became a smile as she turned to me, "One day, Barnabas, will you do me a favour?"

"Of course," I answered, "Tell me."

"Don't stop at my hand when you kiss me like that, oui? Go up the arm."

My dear Maggie, my dearest Josette, their humour had blended together so well, and why not? They were one indefinably glorious woman after all.

Getting up we continued to explore the grounds together, sheltering in its ancestral glory and allowing it to benefit from our love. Beholding the grandeur of all these things combined and what we could bring to it. So much affection did we share and there were times when we noticed other family members from afar. They didn't intrude on our solitude, though. No. They merely smiled and waved acknowledging their shared happiness for us. We held our hands up to them or nodded in return.

"It's good to see Carolyn and Mr. Peterson brought together so well," my darling bride expressed, "If only they could be as happy as we are."

"Do you believe anyone can be?"

"No. But I can still wish for it. That's why I like keeping the journals together, Barnabas. Perhaps one day it could help someone else."

"Why?" I asked.

"Don't you know what's happening to us?"

"You tell me. I shan't venture any imaginings to your wisdom, Maggie Evans."

She grinned at this as we reached a full oceans view.

"It's something that could inspire almost any pair whose love is thwarted by all the distraction in this modern age. We had enough of our own calamity and not only in the strife. It was a rotten time to be alive if one was poor. All the modern conveniences aren't for show and pomp, they're to enrich our lives. So few look at them that way now. But you and I? We share the delights of all that time and what could be easier to focus on now, but love?"

"I'm not sure I understand you, Maggie."

"Well, look at it all. We're all so busy fussing for the extras to fill some gap, but you know what we really need is friendship, and friendships that _work_. Material possessions are supposed to enhance life, not control us. Same with games or books. It's not to waste time but to think about and have... to appreciate its moments."

"I see your point on that, my dear. But... what do you mean about the journals we've started?"

"Well," she raised an eyebrow toward me, "if we relive some of the excitement through them, what do you think it will inspire?"

I breathed, "... more?"

"Yes," she said, "which will lead to what else?"

"Writing down further details... and reading those?" I asked, but rhetorically because she'd brought a tingle to my skin with these thoughts.

"And?" her smile was wide now and her face so close.

"I see what you mean. Perhaps an eternity of this isn't impossible?"

"As long as we appreciate what we have and we have each other? We can be almost certain."

A seat was placed in this spot, which we took, though who had put it there was unknown. Perhaps this Matthew Morgan I'd once heard of, perhaps any workman Elizabeth might have hired to stow a bench so others could enjoy this rich view of the salt spray of waves crashing on the rocks. Did the moon truly create this threshing of water? I often wondered, especially now. There we stayed and thoughts became echoes of the day, then vanished away like the morning fog on a summers afternoon, leaving us content for a long time. Her head rested on my shoulder and I kissed the top of it.

As we sat facing the ocean, our hands held together I felt a tighter grip for a moment.

"Any reason for that?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Thinking about... last night."

"Which part?" I smiled.

"The second," she admitted and then took the back of her curled fingers to her mouth in a blushing manner.

"You aren't shy... are you?" I asked, inquisitive.

"Surprised... I'm sure," she told me, "but I dwell on the possibilities of more..."

I took her at the waist, knowing I'd received so much already, remembering what I'd felt from her bare skin where she was well covered now. Her lips on mine were renewing the memories of what had come before and sounds of the sea-wind, the lapping waves below stirred haunting memories of when we'd yearned for each other in this very spot so long ago.

I brought the back of my hand to graze her honey-sweet blush, and her eyes closing slowly in this touch of exquisite tenderness.

"I remember that," she breathed, "you touched me like that before. I remember, Barnabas. I remember."

"I do, as well," I echoed in response, "I didn't know but I suppose that's why I did it."

"Has any fondness been as pure as what you and I share?"

I blinked slowly, "_At times_ some may consider it rather brusque... but I don't."

I brought her face to mine and we dwelt in this vibration of joy, unclouded and lifting free as we always wished together.

Pulling away her words came out, "It's time to go back, isn't it?"

"Without a doubt." I told her.

* * *

_I'm not sure where this chapter came from, but since I channel the characters They likely know. :) Like I say, I don't do it for me, I do it for Them... but still, what Maggie reflects in this walk together I hope inspires change and better things in your life. Let me know if it has. Peace._


	6. Chapter 6: A Broken Bed

_After a days journey through the grounds, re-discovering their haunts, their broken dreams re-vitalized, our wedded couple begin recollecting the previous night and desiring more from each other... as many a happy couple might, if only we followed the wisdom, the yearning and the delightful escapades... of this one. _

* * *

Chapter 6: A Broken Bed

* * *

Forgetting about the ocean waves, my bride and I were remembering waves of passion from the previous night as we rose from our bench that faced the sea. She was up quickly and pulled me with her. Running was out of the question, but our steps back were anything but a slow gait. I watched the hem of her cream coloured dress flutter in the steps ahead. It was a long way back home but we were able to move swiftly, new powers beginning to flutter up as the sun moved closer to the horizon.

Through brush and trees a desire stirred, we moving forward as the sea breeze compelled the two of us toward the house. We passed the haunted and the hollows of places spent with horror, now made sacred with our love. Doubtfulness had been such a mainstay to my consciousness of this and _that_ was all washing through me and away from my heart as I watched her, sometimes ahead of me, sometimes beside me with hands clasped for splendours sake. The beauty of her form beside mine beckoned a charge of unity even now, though we were not united... _yet_. At one point she turned and froze, her eyes almost black in the dwindling light, a probing gaze slicing my soul.

"Here?" she dared.

I stepped closer, facing her, an understanding smile beginning, my head shaking once at an angle, "No."

Grappling each other close she breathed, "Why not?"

"Because I know this raillery," I answered, "I _know_ you, Josette Dupres."

Our open mouths folding, closing, absorbing sweet tenderness between us and our hearts were pulsing, concurrent with renewed hunger... _no_... we couldn't stay here. We had to continue... Home. And hand in hand we went.

A familiar face noticed our approach. He, in his usual black butler outfit, was an odd contrast with the push-broom he was using to sweep away nature's debris out front. He took one look at us, smiled, and opened one of the two doors. I believe I caught a raised eye-brow as we humourously nodded to each other. My brief speculation after he shut the door behind us is he would remain outside for the duration of our sojourn upstairs.

I watched her catch her skirt and slide her slender hand up the railing as she took to the steps before me. Her waist in that dress she chose... defeating my ability to concentrate on the steps I took. How I longed to hold that slim middle of hers in my embrace. And I followed her into her room. Her room, Her things, Her sanctuary of which I'd been keeping sacred for what seemed an eternity. It glowed with a luminescence I'd never known and all because... she was finally standing in it as my bride, my love, my one true desire, as she always had been. And she knew it, as I was her desire. Here we stood in our natures to know this of each other. And to _know_ in the most Biblical sense of the word.

Her door was shut, the sunset bringing peace of mind to our preternatural state. She held the bed post and turned, the skirt of her dress twirling in a flutter that brought a thrill to my heart. Auburn were her eyes, her hair, and her gaze upon me. The welcoming night would come and we would make love to usher in its beauty. I had finally accepted this blessing and moonlight was hardly an enemy to us now.

She came to me and made no time of waiting for me to make the first move, feverishly disrobing me, as I did to her in kind, undoing the buttons at the front of that dress she cared for. And why did she care for it so? Because it was meant for the day we two would be one and carry on our lives together... a euphoria of reverence.

All the while as our fingers felt to undo our clothing we kissed; cheeks, lips, necks and once a long embrace to reach forth, half undone of ourselves and our clavicle parts meeting as we caressed each other along them with our lips, I holding her around the back of her shoulders and clasping her head so close to me... wanting to show her the adoration beyond all common knowledge. Even in these kisses we had to continue undressing each other, deeply breathing and almost hurting. I must confess it was a scintillating experience, feeling her fingers along me, unbuttoning my vest, my shirt, trying to bring me so much closer. Again it was all coming off unscrupulously on the floor. I wasn't sure how to remove her dress in the hurry, but I saw her hands reach back and heard that noise reminding me of a needle sliding over a phonograph record. This dress was more difficult to remove, the sleeves being ruffled at elbow length. We managed it, though.

She **did** care about the dress and made good to fold it along the chair in front of her vanity table. Under things so scant was not what I would expect to see in my Josette, but as a new woman, I shan't complain. Her talons grew when she turned to face me again, but only a glint of fang did I see in her half opened lips. It was her mouth that produced the encravings of my heart and I welcomed them towards mine, handling her shoulders and coursing my hands down the bare skin of her sides, grappling her back, our centers pressing closer. Brief were the under things she wore that kept us apart. I longed to remove them but was too sensitive to her needs to know if I should induce the attempt.

I, myself, stood in almost no clothes at all.

Then she was a little distracted.

There were a few gratings upon the doorknob, which she had to step lively, half-naked, to check. Of course, it was only a ghost of a sound, but it was just as well that she turned the key in the lock, as I would in due course turn upon her lock, as it were, with my key… I was _waiting._

As I saw her crouch down to make sure, I took her beneath the joints of her shoulders, and carried her back to her bed, I was intent to fling her on it, if she hadn't already caught me somehow and we both landed strangely akimbo upon each other there. She continued to shudder in giggles, and grapple me along my ribcage, making my stirrings rise even further. _God, how I love Her!_ And then I kissed her to express it, and she reacted in kind.

I have mentioned her laughter before, but perhaps it was more of an exhale of titillation as what remained of our underclothes were removed by stretching, ripping and a few awkward, back-handed flings. My fingers coursing up the mid-section of her back, massaging in ways that made her hum; a music of no triviality to the sensations taking place within me from hearing it as I responded in kind. I found my way to reach her folds below, having to push myself in at this mesmerizing angle, half on top, half at her side. She helped by holding my midsection and moving me aloft. The strength in her hands suddenly increased my amourous intentions as we united in these efforts to bond as one.

I brought my hips closer to hers.

We inhaled sharply, exhaled softly, lips still melding, savouring one another, as I stretched her deepness and this passage closed around me, our hands groping on midsections of flesh that remain nameless but are ever erogenous, as we were learning together. Our embrace became tense almost strained as the movements combining and recombining ourselves into one continued and renewed our vigour. She began bending her knees and this impressed me with a change in how she felt, increasing our fervour. I was groped so steadily and lovingly within her. She was mine and I was hers.

The berth of where this love was shared and exchanged was beginning to make sounds that had not happened the night before.

I must wonder why I so seldom had these pieces of furniture replaced after over a century, for at this point, our rollicking ecstasy broke the frame of her sacred bed... Not that we stopped to investigate any trouble. The center had fallen down, and we were depressed within the cage of its physique. The occurrence claimed a unique thrust upon us which brought even further excitement while we proceeded in our bliss. As we collided and punctuated our love, we breathed over one another and convulsed with a lustful happiness. The orange glow of sunset in the room altered to red as this went on, turning into a darkness we coveted along with our possession, our adoration, our knowledge, our oneness.

I continued to express my love on her insides and She advanced herself around me. As she did, she grappled my neck and almost forced me to kiss her, though I was never struggling, I let her invite me there. From where we were, embraced with arms, legs and lower parts between us, we had to endure the fact that… eventually, these springs and furnishings would _definitely_ require a refit.

What I delighted in was that, when I off-handily mentioned this during our love-making, she breathed, between kisses, "Oh, perhaps… even if there are new things applied here, Barnabas… we'll just as soon… break_ them._" Ha! And wouldn't we, though? After all, we were immortal now and would be bound to each other longer than any other couple, and with good purpose: We had a family to watch over. There was no reason to engage in creating one of our own… although, here we were, in the act of _trying_.

I have to say her method before of being on top of me was a vigorous act to follow. There I was, straitening my wrists and keeping myself upright in order to resist totally crushing her, not that she may have minded that. It was difficult though, especially with the way she kept distracting me… wrapping her legs around my tailbone, blemishing my torso with her claws, and as we reached to kiss each other in this… I had the worse difficulty in restraining myself from completing the act… as every man ought to know. I wanted to be sure my darling was satisfied.

Still, She saw this and told me, it was all just as well. There would be other occasions… _Several_ other encounters in which my darling bride and I would consume one another… so… if I needed… I could replete myself into her as many times as I so desired.

_This scared me._

She may out do my stamina if such contemplation kept up between us.

And… she saw this… and… she smiled devilishly. Again, I was afraid of her… but _delightfully_ afraid.

Now it _would_ be finished, for she softly scratched along my arms, enticing me with needle-like droplets running along nerve endings I never knew I possessed. Then She raised her legs higher and higher, until her feet were over my shoulders. So much more of herself surrounded me in my penetration of her and I was entranced by her marvels, not just inside but out. Oh, Josette, _my, Josette,_ how could you know all of this? To give me so much pleasure? I allowed myself one kiss at her ankle to express this gratitude.

How one could go deeper into any woman, I may never know, _nor_ do I wish to.

All I know is that it was over before I could even blink and again she saw in me the foolishness of the innocent. Yes, I had had one other lover. But my Josette, in this Maggie, had lived three life times and knew more lovers than I. To which I bless her devotedly. I do need such instruction, of course. And… considering my own wedded bliss… I _will_ have that instruction in time…

I was undermined by her and her embrace, letting myself go within her and as I came down to be by her, side by side, she stayed fast to my lips, holding on to any delectation… and… I _let_ Her. I could feel her fingers drift and slide majestically through the filaments of my hair, my spent condition making this all so much more glorious as her lips pressed upon mine.

As we stroked each other in the ruins of her bed… which I _would_ have replaced, of course, we gently laughed, and gently kissed. Pulling away, needing to see her glowing face so close to mine, her smile brought one to me in return. I did love seeing her and watching her brown eyes shine, but with all that had come before, including ourselves, it was a relief when the candles finally flickered down and expired and all we had were the embers of the fire between us.

We were there, in her collapsed bed, not caring, not wondering, just bringing the blankets to cover us in the chill that finally reached us, touching, tender, released of wants and charges, but still feeling of immeasurable bliss with each other, finally having what we'd strived so long to achieve and enact. To be married... to be wed... to be in love... a Heaven, a Haven, an entitlement we wished on all of our loved ones should they be so wise enough to welcome its blessing.

With our foreheads compressed, and our arms around each other, we slept… at last.

* * *

_*whispering* Express yourself, don't repress yourself... express yourself, don't repress yourself, express yourself, don't repress yourself. ;)_


	7. Chapter 7: Other Reactions

_This chapter is from the view of Wadsworth. (Hopefully that won't be an issue for publication either, but if it is I can rework it to hint that it's him instead.) For a while I imagined Wadsworth would pack up and head out at the end of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". However, this made Willie Loomis extremely sad, in fact he was crying. (Nope! Can't have that now, can we?)_

_I realized how much Wadsworth was coming to mean to Mr. Loomis. Wadsworth has the aristocratic element of Barnabas Collins, but is a man of service like Willie Loomis. Commonalities abound between Barnabas and Willie in Wadsworth. And besides, after all the good he's been doing for them, Barnabas Collins will be serving him one heck of a pension plan! (Collinsport is a protective place, anyway. Perhaps then those weirdos chasing down Wadsworth's life as Dr. Frank N Furter will finally leave him the ef alone.)_

_I was once asked why more than one servant at The Old House was necessary. I answered, "It's a mansion. There ought to be more than two!" ;)_

* * *

Chapter 7: Other Reactions

As you likely know, considering the long wait my employer, Barnabas Collins, has had in winning the heart of our mademoiselle, there has been much… erm… vigorous activity at The Old House. When Mr. Loomis and I first heard the racket we were certain it was more belated relatives come to haunt the premises. Then we heard what we were sure were voices we already knew… in ways we hadn't quite heard them before.

We listened at the stairs and then had some blemishing to do ourselves. I stepped to the door, intending to explore the old shed Ben Stokes of long ago had left in apt condition.

"Mr. Loomis," I said, "do you recall how to play Backgammon?"

He quickly followed me with the embarrassed but eager words, "I dunno and I don't care. Just show me how, an' I'll get the jist of it soon enough."

So, one can imagine that he's become quite proficient at the game of Backgammon what with all of the new ruckus going on lately. Many a long evening, or afternoon has been studious spent on the enjoyment of such trifles. It also helped to give me a good history of how battered Mr. Loomis had been before I arrived. There were times I was shaken to my foundations to hear what he'd suffered. Then I'd calm down remembering all he and I had been through. I could also smile again when I recalled the reason we had left The Old House, and the deep enjoyment our married couple were sharing at last.

One evening, the good doctor stepped toward us as we had just exited the front doors.

"Where are you two off to?" She asked, not so interrogatory as in previous years, though seeing our faces, she did have a more stolid curiousity than usual.

"Well, Doctor Hoffman," Mr. Loomis stammered, "we've been takin' to playin' a lot of Backgammon in the old shed lately and were just going off there again. Want to, um… well, join us?"

"No, thank you," she answered, "I wanted to see—"

"Oh, well," I interrupted, blocking the door. She interposed that familiar look of suspicion I'd gotten so used to in earlier days, "Now is not the best time, I believe."

"Oh?" she asked, lengthening the word, "what are you two hiding from me?"

"Heh! Nothing," said Mr. Loomis, "it's more like what we're hiding out from!"

"Well," she asked, folding her arms and raising her chin with that penetrating gaze of hers, "there is something that's unnerved you two and I aim to…"

That was when a sharp cry came from an upstairs window.

"What in heavens was THAT?" she demanded, dropping her arms and looking up in attempt to locate the calamity.

"Well… ya… ya see, Doctor Hoffman," answered Mr. Loomis, "they're kind of busy."

"What? Have those two got some poor victim up there or something? Who are they after?"

"Each other," I said, at last.

"Oh… oh? Oh!" said our doctor, beginning a long nod and then an incredulous peer, placing and impatient hand on her waist, "oh, good lord… AGAIN?"

"Yep!" nodded Mr. Loomis, a smirk cast on his visage.

Doctor Hoffman sighed in exasperation, "I know it's been a long time for him but this is _ridiculous!_ When are they going to leave each other alone?"

"Heh," laughed Mr. Loomis, "maybe we should purchase some cows so they can come home."

Doctor Hoffman scoffed, "Sheesh! And I thought the Professor was repressed the way he's been pawing ME! Not that I mind… wait… forget I said that."

"We WILL," I answered, "besides, Mr. Collins isn't the one who's always making the advances."

"You mean… it's HER? Is she trying to _wreck_ the old man or what? I must say I'm thankful that I'm NOT a gynecologist!"

"A what?" Mr. Loomis inquired, not hearing.

"It doesn't matter," Doctor Hoffman exhaled, "Still, why always at night? If they're worried about getting sunburned in their oddly immortal condition why not do this kind of thing during the day?"

"The cellar isn't exactly the most romantic place in the world… especially for her." I answered.

"Tell me about it!" Mr. Loomis echoed the sentiment.

"Well, can't they get lead curtains or something?" she suggested, impatiently.

"Oh, yes, Madam," I said, "I've already ordered some darker ones, at least."

"Good! I hope David hasn't been over to hear any of that noise." She stated.

"Well," Mr. Loomis chuckled, "he just thought they was jumping around on the furniture and I have to tell ya, I wasn't about to correct the fella."

"Trust you for that, Willie!" said the doctor, "I just don't understand where she's gets such an appetite for all of it."

"Perhaps because she's young?" I suggested.

"P'sh!" she responded, "or it's her previous life as a man getting mixed up with her feminine desire and taking a sky rocket through exploration."

"Are you going to prescribe a sedative?" I asked, which was likely more sarcastic than I proposed to say it.

"Hardly," she answered, annoyed, "they have GOT to run out of steam on this insanity."

"Why?" I asked, "don't you find it healthy?" I inquired.

"Healthy once in a while, heck even twice a day in some cases, but it's as if every time I come over to see either of them… they're always up there going _at_ it!"

"Wanna leave a note?" Mr. Loomis giggled.

"What? Another one?" she asked, "No. _And_ I doubt I could send a letter. I don't believe the postman comes by anymore after hearing that racket."

We stood around in the semi-silence, trying to pretend we heard nothing, even at that distance.

"So, how about it, Doctor Hoffman?" Mr. Loomis asked, "want to join in for a game of Backgammon?"

She sighed heavily and then straitened up, "You know? How about we go into town and I buy you gentlemen a beer or two. Then you can buy me something in kind. Sound like a plan?"

"Most agreeable, Madam."

"Sure, I'm game," said Mr. Loomis.

* * *

_As this is a series of vignette style glimpses in what "happily ever after", or "relative contentment" might mean for the wedded couple at The Old House, this came out in some amused wondering of what those outside the relationship might experience. They'd likely be overhearing a couple exploring their two-century-long repression with each other._

_And so, a certain amount of bemused commentary would be welcome. ^_^_


	8. Chapter 8: The Whom of Many

_Again, I found upon re-reading this one there are only veiled hints, so it seems to pass for the T rating._

_*.*.*.*.*.*_

_I would like to express that I knew about how heavily Julia/Barnabas stories are desired, though perhaps even more strongly than I predicted. For any past readers or listeners to "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" I was as careful as I could be with Julia, as well as in this story._

_On Dark Shadows I have never seen Barnabas make a pass at Julia except to toy with her affections, which of course I didn't like. Later on there were musings they married but this was never aired on television, which I try to stick with._

_I also did not like that Dr. Julia Hoffman would be playing 2nd fiddle as a romantic option to Barnabas. I felt she deserved someone who would make her the leading role in his life, so I chose someone of an academic variety that I felt would suit her better. I hope that assuages any quick assumptions. (And I'm not all that fond of her personal experiments going foul on DS either. I felt her character deserved better than that.)_

* * *

Chapter 8: The Whom of Many

As I've allowed to express the experience of this strange and unique plight in my love-life, I must again analyze its insistent confusion of fate. What She was, what We are, has left a craving in me to explain the tale. Perhaps more for myself than for anyone else.

You might understand, or perhaps defer to reference, that this woman of whom I love so intensely, is not simply a single woman unto herself. She is at least three, and I have "known" them. So I must explain that **one** in between. THAT was the one who made it all clear. Kitty Soames, or Lady Hampshire.

She was, sadly, the obvious crux in this entire escapade of my love for the original that flew off the cliff so many years ago. Why my Kitty felt compelled to drink of poison, as my mother had done, still escapes me with a wet-eyed glow of compassion. And confusion. However, it is likely her own confusion of knowing so well who she had been and what had become of us that makes this tale a needed one. As my father-in-law has said, there must have been some reason she continued to try and return to me through the centuries. And I in my singular life, as long as it is, can only wonder at the misery I've put my darling through. As grateful as I am at the result.

Kitty, was, indeed, so tightly bound in her corsets as to be almost waif-like. And it pained me to see my Josette in such a state. But likely worse, to see her still crying out to me, still searching to find me, and I am ashamed as such in my attempts to let her go, but not being able to. And in that magnificent dress, she was truly the purple rose of my longing.

Had I known of her existence when I awoke in this time, perhaps I may have been less diabolical in my plans. Though, how one can be so calculating after so much time had passed, with I in this new time period, does assuage some guilt in my terrible actions.

Kitty, my beauty, for who I both mourn and am grateful to have again in this Margaret, dazzles my interest. And if it were not for her, it may not have been so obvious what was happening to us. Something was trying, and when one looks at the chronology of our history, to keep us alive, and to gather us together at that alter of union. And she was brave to come out and say so. Of course it tickles me that she recognized our tormentor, Angelique, and immediately went to throttle the life out of her. For this… Kitty is the name I often use when I see that sweet justice again, in my Maggie.

Of Angelique, I say, that though Josette may have been born to high regard, if anyone has taken the chance to notice, of all the other people with expectations of servants, Josette was the one who treated her like a friend. This makes all that tormenting, both between us, and our families, the worse for it. The one person who wanted to give Angelique the attention she craved, Angelique smote worse than any of the others. And Josette understood, as we all do now, what Angelique's true problem always was: Neglect. Though we hope this can be rectified. There *is* a man who can love her, and it certainly isn't me. Though even with him, she'll have to earn it, and earn it righteously.

Then Kitty took her own life, and as my Maggie has said, it could not be helped, though we still have that longing for Kitty, even now. Though, sometimes when She looks at me, when She speaks with a certain inflection, I know Kitty is there, within her… and when I've engulfed my passion toward her, she tells me she knows, and she _feels_ it. Whether it's a kiss, or whether it is when we imbibe upon each other in that room which belongs to ALL of them, I know she exists. I know she is there, and I know, that all of those three… are **one.**

As for Maggie… who I aim to make right among all of the others, she has told me, in retrospect, just what those night terrors were about.

Oh? You don't remember? The night terrors that sent her screaming out from her own handsome profiled sleep? Those were her evidence of what was to come. The knowledge of all her previous conditions to me, and the future knowledge of the terrible acts I would inflict and forever wish a rotten heart upon myself for. That is the vile aspect of reincarnation… sometimes we not only_know_ what has gone before… but what is… to occur.

The lovely thing of all this is, she knows what ought to be and does it with exquisite divinity. As always, in all her lives, she is not one who likes to idle, and that is the sadness for those who cannot know her. Others see her as sweetness _only_, a trifling happiness and without any complexity. But *I* know better, as do her entourage for which I take up my pen to explain these things.

But what of our Julia? _Poor_ Julia, as some may say. That is something for which I must address because I think so many believe her to be otherwise than I know her.

Dr. Julia Hoffman, must be described above both woman and doctor. And that is the troubling approach in all of this. That people see her only as a woman and _not_ as a doctor, to which she likely has struggled to fight the conventions of her time to prove herself. As I pen these diaries, I have to admit, that her happiness is my happiness, and to see her with that other gentleman is not only a blessing but a fitting condition. You see, as her own previous incarnation with another man… _they_have also returned, to help with the curse they inflicted on my own cousin. And so these things are all working out, as Maggie and Mr. Evans has told us they may.

Julia, has been such a close friend, many would believe her to be my lover. Of course, that is the expectation of the gullible romantic. But Dr. Hoffman is far above this, you must know. And considering how many of the male persuasion in her line of work have shown vaguely superior, it IS an unfairness grotesque to her own ability to decipher problems. They've told me something of this period of time of women's liberation… Well, is it really so liberating when one contemplates only the carnality of a woman? Unfair, **truly** unfair to herself and her profession. And I believe her current paramour knows that… and… so do I.

Thankfully, my own sweet love and my own sweet friend have engaged in a durable bond between each other. Again, I must thank Heaven and Earth when I see these things. Shan't we all be friends, assisting each other, when all is said and done? I do hope so. And you do realize, that if it wasn't for my heroic Julia, I would not finally have the love I so desire now, nor the love that has so desired _me_ through many generations of wearisome attempts.

Unfortunately I cannot continue with this story just yet. My bride is inviting me, with a winsome eye, to her bedroom. And I'm sure she would be fine with enlightening you on the details of that if anyone requests it. And, as I have noted, from my discussions with our friend Julia, she also is dabbling some disclosures behind certain doors. She has done a great deal of studies in the matters of personal pleasure, and what might light a person's fire._Ah_… that_is_ gratifying.

Well, I must pursue my bride, this beauty… further… and _deeper_ than before perhaps. And for those out there, in their own wedded bliss, you likely understand what we all are going through. Isn't it lovely?

* * *

_And couldn't it be, though? I'm adding this after thought upon further reflection to this explanation and reactions to who I place Julia with in "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows"._

_Considering this type of writing varies toward preference, which includes major changes in the circumstances of each version depending on the writer, I am continually puzzled at the knee jerk reaction that Julia Hoffman's love for Barnabas Collins can never vary or even be excluded entirely._

_What I've discovered about this style of writing is it tends to be about choice of what some people in common want to see. Obviously, the Julia/Barnabas crowd have been so vocal and so militant that there are likely Barnabas/Josette or Barnabas/Maggie stories we're not seeing at all. It makes me wonder if these writers and dreamers that came before me may have been given harsh treatment and are keeping their stories to themselves, which is why I couldn't find them._

_"Forever Mine" with Josette, on this site is in 1795 and a nip in the bud story. (No Julia)_

_"A Third Option" with Maggie is also a nip in the bud story. (Again, No Julia.)_

_My story, combined with this one, is not only Maggie=Josette, but also incorporates Kitty Soames. And all with Julia._

_I care about Julia Hoffman and saw through this absolutism of her being with Barnabas and didn't want her to play a second fiddle role as his choice, but have someone else step in to fall in love with her and not a made up character. I carefully made sure she would have what she needed so that all in my story would be pleased. And considering what a strong woman she is I could see her getting over Barnabas far easier than Barnabas getting over Josette. However there is still that almost involuntary reflex that no universe, however alternate, could exist in which Dr. Hoffman isn't swooning over him._

_I can already think of 3 different techniques here that would make her not in love with Barnabas and easily placed._

_1) Alternate Universe: Julia simply isn't in love with him._

_2) She cures him, and as her mission is accomplished, she collects her data and goes in search of other vampires to cure._

_3) She simply gets fed up that he's not in love with her and goes off to enjoy the affections of a man who does._

_Why none of these are employed remains a mystery._

_I can also see how Julia fans would be thinking, "Well, gosh she did so much for this guy and why didn't she get him?" But for the most part what I see between the two is Her gripes versus His Gripes. She had to do all of this covering up for him and keep him away from the mini-skirted lasses... (WHY is IT almost no gal on this show wears a pair of PANTS?)_

_So I looked at Julia's worries with her one lifetime then I looked at Barnabas with all his other worldly concerns and likely feeling like a BIG prig after turning into such a monster and having so much that he wanted not only ripped away from him like the worst removed hangnail, but then having to deal with all of these 1960's versions of his previous existence and wondering, "Gosh darn it! I miss that Josette, what if this girl actually WAS her?"_

_So between Julia's one lifetime problems and Barnabas' multiple centuries concerns... I felt... well... he has the *bigger* gripe._

_Take care. :)_


	9. Chapter 9: All of Us

_I have a nagging suspicion this was presumed to be a Collinwood orgy considering the title of the chapter. ;) Ah, well, I'm sure someone could write that. I'm not quite into that 1970's key exchange game, though._

_However, "In The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows", I have found Kitty Soames of 1897 to be a necessity while going down a condensed version of the original Dark Shadows storyline. In my story, Maggie remembers all three lives in chronological order, whereas Barnabas does not. His travels go from 1795, then 1967, and later he reaches 1897. Having Maggie regress into past lives chronologically would make the story work. _

_In "Pit of..." her memory urges that this Barnabas can be forgiven, because she remembers him working for the greater good in 1897, though he hasn't experienced it yet. She knows when that does happen and he returns *that* is the time to allow him absolution. So, the Kitty Soames life time becomes an important point in his gaining that forgiveness. _

_And, as shown here in this tale of their marriage, he succeeds. :)_

* * *

Chapter 9: All of Us

I must say, my dear friends under our employment were rather quick in replacing the wrecked furniture my bride and I had so heedlessly destroyed in the eruption of our long awaited trysting. I do bless them for being so understanding… but then again they are men, I suppose they would have to understand, yes?

Oh, and my damsel does give me the spectacle of how full of fire she can be. I've dwelt in my thoughts on our Aunt Laura and wondering if with how fiery she has been – would all of her husbands know any comparison to this sweet Margaret? I shan't ask them, but merely contemplate.

What my beloved continues to show me is intoxicating. She stirred my blood with her winsome eye as I was detailing the previous considerations you've likely read about. When she calls I come. I make no mistake in eviscerating the casual affairs of our days. The more meticulous affairs we undertook were of my highest delight now. I looked forward to them each night since my rapture began on our wedding day, or perhaps I should say our wedding night.

And her inner astonishment was the sweetest delight later, when she'd curled her fingers over her blushing mouth on the bench beside the sea. I reflected on it often, the beautiful memory, how she clutched at my hand in the thought of that night. She was right... my Josette, my Maggie, she was right. The more we thought about it, the more would come and the more would come, the more we would think of that and continue in this long and unspent adoration. Every quirk in time to graze our fingers to each other's skin, every movement becoming a nerve-ending unexplored or re-explored. How it all stripped me of my inhibitions. With her I had none... not anymore.

This is not to say we would take each other anywhere or on any grounds, but the thought of doing so penetrated our minds. She would turn to me in certain coves and avenues of bracken, smiling, winking, daring with a strange delight, because we knew we would if we really wanted to. And perhaps... someday we will?

Although we do heal quickly, she has made an effort to drink out of as many places as she can from my body. She's told me she never thought she would take to the new creation of herself so well. Does this please me? It surprises me. I could never believe being a vampire, even one with more wholesome intentions could truly be a blessing. To me it had always been a curse to enjoy drinking the life's blood from those around us. But now we don't need much and we are cautious with it.

The jangle of the lock clicked as she turned the key in her door, standing in a pale orange robe and facing me with a mock stare of reprimand.

"Too busy writing, Barnabas?" she prompted, "when you know you should be ready for me... whenever I ask you."

I glimmered in this foolish taunt, "I'm here now... isn't that what you wanted?"

"You know that it was... you know... that it always is," she baited, playfully.

As she drew me in to her embrace, a kiss that had started gentle ensued with a forcefulness I remembered from our first night together. She groped the back of my neck, hooking her fingers up into my scalp which brought those prickles of unknown excitement down my back and through my arms that held her tightly.

All we wore was removed again and the new structure of her bed welcomed us as she drew me forth to rest upon her. Our lips open, tongues tasting in desperation, hands coursing and groping at muscles, fondling parts. Memories of separation bound me even closer.

Turning, I was on my back. She had done her part of guiding me into her... oh, the sweet bliss of Her doing so… raking down her back and resting my hands upon her pelvis to join us in even more smarting movements. Releasing herself from my lips she kissed me along my jaw and cheek, reaching my ear and moving down with a wide mouthed inhale. I did my best to relax and allow her to take what she needed, moaning in both the pleasure and the pain of it.

She inhales through her nose, but does not quit drinking from me and responds with her own gestures below, as well as searing my chest with her fingernails. I'd taken to wrapping my fist around a blanket or pillow. I'm not sure which as my eyes were shut tightly in this exhilaration. She was pulling at me below and consuming me from above.

After all my past tormenting, what a relief it is to see my _own_ blood moisten her lips as she breaks free from my throat, smiling at me before thrusting her kiss on my mouth. I have been learning how to hold back my drinking of her life's blood in all of this intense love, though she still surprises me and makes it all so burdensome to manage. It has just been _too long_ for both of us to contain our desire and she has more than one individual longing for me. That could make things furtherrepressed on her end than on mine, you must allow.

"Oh," I breathed, our undulations continuing, "With what you're doing to me, can you _truly_ have forgiven me?"

"Hmm," she answered, between kisses, "perhaps mostly- but you realize… I _will_ be needing to punish _you_ to get some of my own back."

"Please do," I said, holding her face towards me and pressing my lips over hers repeatedly, "I shall never underestimate you again, my love."

Our lower parts drew away with her change in position, providing a strange relief. Then she drank… from my wrists, from the outer side of my calves, from the side of my stomach, indeed from my own breast.

When she turned and reached to massage my foot, scratching along my leg while feasting on my ankle, I drew myself to delight in the length of her hair, running my fingers through the tresses and softly exploring the form of her back, the beautiful contours of her shoulder blades, the shallow concavity in the lower portion between her sides and then found myself suddenly up on one of these edges. I _must _taste her blood, as I had tasted _my own_ on her lips.

I turned her to face me, she sat as I kneeled. I bent down to bring my fangs into the side of her gorgeous flesh. Josette breathed and moaned excitedly, chaffing behind my ear and along my skull with her nails. And in this action of mine I knew what she'd been trying to do when she drank from me. She was attempting to harness my spirit – to find something in the matrix of our blood wherein our souls could meet… as I was now finding myself do.

I released myself from there and her flesh healed itself. With our heads at the foot of the bed, she was beneath me again and were joined once more, colliding with each other and so enfolded, it finally struck me that not only were my three lovers within her, **_I_**_ was as well_… And overwhelmingly, the four of us were as one… and all erupted upon **ourself** simultaneously… glowing ever afterward in heart and compassion.

...

"And what did you think of that, _mon demón_?"

She wanted me to whisper this time. We had turned to the correct position on her berth. I brought the bed clothes to slip over us. As it draped all our nude repose I felt the tender flesh of her left side, arm, shoulder, neck, reaching to press my lips to her cheek and further to her ear, "Yes, know my heart, my precious bride, know all that I have to give in everything that you've offered to me. I'll never struggle. After all of this, any pain your past needs to provide... will be a luxury. Exonerate me, Josette. Purify my soul."

* * *

_The Kitty Soames encounter of 1897/1795 was so brief I can imagine a 1960's housewife coming home from a tropical vacation only to discover the gorgeous 1897 on Dark Shadows suddenly lambasted with these bizarre Leviathan weirdos. Picture her rushing out in her curlers, hairpins trailing behind, to ask Selma next door what the **heck** is going on?! :S_

_Of course, the teenagers likely knew..._

_Still it is brief. Kitty kept remembering being Josette to the point where she strangled Angelique with a vengeful relapse of judgement, then lost all knowledge again and was embarrassed and shocked. In this way I can see Josette being the kind who *could* attack, so these bedroom vignettes might not be so implausible. _

_Kitty was about to leave to keep from being pulled back into Josette's identity. Somehow she was lured to The Old House and Barnabas knew. Still, Kitty would go from saying yes to no and then finally when Barnabas flat out proposed, she desperately accepted._

_And *again* "Oh, I have to go do this other thing first..." P'shaw! Uh-huh... :/_

_So, Kitty paces in Josette's room, likely biting her fingernails down to the cuticle in anxiety of waiting, suddenly has Josette's wedding dress on, morphs into the portrait, which later Barnabas joins her and then suddenly they're back in 1795 but separated. It's episode 884 &amp; 886\. And later on so much teamwork ruined by those pesky Leviathans... _

_And as you likely suspect this already, I think I can safely give away the plan that... well... I have another Doctor lined up for them! :)_


	10. Chapter 10: Prior Disturbances Come

_This chapter begins into the unfortunate delving that Maggie Evans, even as a reincarnation of Josette Dupres, would still have to face the troubles of the kidnapping. So no, not a fairy tale marriage. _

* * *

Chapter 10: Prior Disturbances Come to Haunt

I'd been hoping, strange as it may seem, that my bride Maggie, acceptably proven to be Josette from reincarnation, would have forced the issue that was burdening us both. I had come to this time a broken madman and isolated by one thought: Josette was mine and had been taken from me and through it all she loved me as passionately as I loved her, if not more so.

In 1795 I'd tried to say goodbye to her one last time but she wouldn't accept it. She was letting me create her into the cursed being I'd become, not knowing what that entailed but demanding she didn't care. How I feared those nights but I let her guide me enough to change my mind, even with a sense of guilt. And it didn't turn out as we both had hoped. We had both been thwarted again by half-truths and manipulation.

I believed she died hating me, as I told Ben Stokes. Maggie put me strait on this when I mentioned it to her once. She almost snapped, "I did _not!_ I died in fear and confusion and with plenty of reason to do so," then she quieted down, "but I've always loved you and I always will." Well, my mind was at rest on that point now.

What I could recall of my Josette when I awakened so long later, was a single but tiny point of light, as one might perceive of a single star in the night's sky, or a cell of isolation with the minutest crack to the outside world. Our human instincts call us toward that light however small but with little knowledge of what it is or what it means.

Such were my memories of Josette Dupres and what had happened to us.

Dr. Julia Hoffman entered the room as I sat by the fire one evening. I heard the door shut and my butler asking if, "Madam would like anything for refreshment". She said, "No thank you, that will be all."

Perhaps it was poor manners not to stand and face her but it was known there was a heaviness on my mind. I heard the steps of my old friend, once enemy, carefully tread and take a seat nearby.

She sighed with her usual mournful dreariness when it came to me and my problems, "Barnabas, forgive my stating the obvious, but there's something wrong, isn't there?"

I turned my head slowly towards her. Goodness, even in her concern for me she had a glow of some kind that I'd not noticed before. _Oh, yes._ I think there must be more loving warmth in her recent days then there currently were in mine. Her peering gaze was softer, her skin was smoother, and in general she was happier over all. That lifted my spirits some.

"Julia, did Professor Stokes propose?" I couldn't help but inquire, bleeding some form of delight into this sorrowful evening. She wasn't rejoicing over that question out of nowhere.

"Barnabas Collins, let's stick to the point. As much as it pleases me to finally come here and have a moment with friends... without so much... noise..."

I had to chuckle at this, but lowly, and so did she, smiling and then her expression dropped back to seriousness.

"Barnabas, what's been happening here? I was talking to Maggie and she suddenly dropped her cup on the saucer like she was in another world."

"Yes," I agreed, "a world that you and I _remember_ as well, Julia."

Julia stiffened as though to defend herself, then dropped her gaze into her tweed skirted lap along with her soften fist, "I must have been almost as mad as you to cover up her kidnapping the way I did. If I had known-"

"What's past is past, Doctor," I interrupted; "Now we have to deal with what's to come."

"And what would that be, Barnabas? I've talked to her and I've let her get some things out of her system, but I don't think that's enough."

I took a breath, "She's only punished me with passion... not with anger. This worries me. She needs to punish me."

Julia began one of those confused short gasps of hers, "Wel—well... _punish_ you? Are you _serious_? How do you propose she punish you? How is that going to solve anything?"

"It would set her free. She could physically know I was bound to her, that I'd do anything, be anything, go through anything..."

"Haven't you done that enough already?" Julia sounded annoyed.

"Not enough for her. I kidnapped her, I harmed her. I knew what I was doing and yet I had no idea what was going on within myself or within her."

"You... you _want_ to be punished by her, Barnabas?" she slowly struggled to suggest.

"I have to be, Julia. And by _her_ which by no other can I accept it. It's not like other times. I love her."

Julia Hoffman rose from her seat and spread her hands down to straighten the clothing on her, "Now I understand why Sarah's ghost hasn't been here as often. I see her sometimes at the Main House. I'm worried she'll be fading away again, too."

That was a sour point with me also. Sarah had come back once, and come back again, and had to return for our wedding, which I would have no other way. But the spirits were calling her to more peaceful ventures now that she had absolved the past pains between her and myself as well as who I'd unfortunately troubled. I'm not sure I would worry so much for her overhearing any noises upstairs. She likely heard them before in our old days and understood them. But that was a habit we had and my dear sister had more pleasure spending time with David along with everyone else who had come to accept her.

"Sarah could be fading away entirely, Julia. It's what I fear, but it also gives me hope knowing she's forgiven me, too."

"Well," Julia professed, stepping closer and I finally stood to face her, "as _for_ your loving bride I'm not sure there is much I can do. Perhaps something is coming out of her that she can extrapolate into whatever punishment to _you_ you seem to believe is so damn necessary."

"Isn't it?" I asked, head turning slightly, "doesn't your doctorate tell you there is a need to let it out for her?"

"Well, yes, but I'm not sure violence on _you_ is the answer, is it?" Julia was grappling with the troubles again.

I nodded grimly, "It is, I believe. Maggie needs to act it out and I need to suffer it."

Another deep breath from my friend, rubbing her neck and releasing her shoulders, "All right... I'll wonder at how I helped you by coming all the way over here, though."

I took her by the arms and she stopped with a deep stare at me, "By listening, Dr. Julia Hoffman, if you remember, that was half of your purpose in getting your degree, wasn't it?"

Then she gave a surrendering smile and I kissed her on the forehead. We embraced and she gave me a warm clap on the back, "Good luck," she said and pulled away to step to the door, "But whatever happens, Barnabas... I'm not sure I'll want to hear about _that._"

This was good natured of her, I could see her laughing eyes as I closed the door behind her.

* * *

_Yes, there is trouble in Paradise and there always is... It's going to be a long haul. Let me know if you want it posted quicker and I'll do what I can._


	11. Chapter 11: A Tender Retreat

_Special thanks to Helena Clara Bouchet for reminding me what Barnabas actually did as punishment to Maggie. He threatened it so repeatedly I began getting lost to what he'd finally done at the time. To this day I am still shocked that all of this made it past the censors in the 1960's._

* * *

Chapter 11: A Tender Retreat

The darkness crept into my marriage with Barnabas earlier than I expected. There were so many lovely spots in the house. My room especially had become sacred when I'd known it to be a prison once. That may have been the easiest and why I came upon him so voraciously. It was the place that I wanted to create our first bond to wipe out the terror of all that had come. But darker regions were haunting me with no loving memories. I took many of these fears with me to consider at Widows Hill. I think I kept returning there as a reminder of what I'd earned from so much loss. Sometimes I'd gaze into the ocean, other times I would sit and stare at my rings, the wedding band of blended silver and gold, the engagement ring, knowing it was the one I was after ever so long ago. But it didn't derail the actions of the kidnapping, and all the torment he inflicted on me then.

Such tangible items of bliss weren't helping as much as they once did. My expression would hang as I went into the lower regions of the house, saw the places I'd been locked away and felt a growing need to repeal my presence there. Throttled, thrashed, threatened, hurt. One man had done these things to me, and that was the one man to which I was devotedly married to now.

We still took our hand-held walks, we still smiled, but he knew, Barnabas knew. We'd ventured to the mausoleum once more and I tried to consider that secret room again as I did the day after we were married. I pulled the cord from the lion's head on my own, believing we could find our way to cleanse that place.

The stone door swung open with that gravelly noise. We stepped down. His old coffin was in there now. The coffin he'd placed me in as punishment for disobeying him. As soon as the panel shut a dread washed through me and a shallow darkness was what I saw; him closing the coffin lid over me to punish me for not becoming his Josette... _as we never understood... I already was._

Barnabas had gone to light a candle but threw himself toward me when he noticed what had happened. I sat on the steps, slapping the stone panel with my hands, caught in that same horror, _screaming_ to be let out, to be released...

"Maggie," he said, gently, "my dearest, come back to me. You're safe. Nothing can harm you now." His arms were tenderly holding me as I clung to the spot, and I was snapping through the memories of being here and searching for a way out. Then I looked at his face, at first a comfort, then my hunger for his blood was anything but a yearning for his love. I was overtaken with a hasty zest for revenge. A horrified look came across his face. He drew back, almost knocking over the tall candelabra as I was up and lunging for him.

He was stepping away from me, hands beginning to rise in defence when suddenly he blinked and dropped them, a kindness melting away the fear. Then he opened his arms, slowly bringing them out and forward in a gesture that said, _Take me_, and that's when I could see what I was doing. My fury began to calm, and instead of attacking him, I took him in his embrace. Then I began to tremble.

Barnabas stroked my hair, mild in manner and gently spoken, "It's coming, isn't it, Maggie? You need to let it out someday... soon. Perhaps... Julia-"

"No..." I said, shivering in a whimper, "No more hypnosis. No more talking. I've been through too much of all of that. I need something else and I'm not sure what it is."

"Neither am I," he acquiesced. "Perhaps you could do something _to_ me. If there is any treachery I might suffer for what I've done to you I will allow for it, even welcome it. You know that."

"How can I do that?" I inquired, shakily, "Now that I love you so dearly? Now that I finally have you after everything else?"

Moving us to face each other and fingering my chin to look into his hazel eyes, he explained, his words echoing in those stony quarters, "Because you need to, and in order to love yourself; All that is there, all of what you are. You'll never be simply Josette to me, Maggie. Not any longer. You've come too far to ever be Josette all alone," His eyes, which were once so hypnotizing to draw me towards him unwillingly, now showed a love that melted me inside. The rage had been cooled. I was softened, but how long would it last?

* * *

That night we lay in bed, a time of wakefulness for us but I was drowning in the pain and he saw that. We had on our nightwear and the bedclothes over us and he began shuddering to kiss me as our feet shifted to search each other out.

"Maggie," he comforted, "how do you feel? Are you afraid of me? Please don't be afraid of me. I promise you I've changed."

I drew in his kiss and pulled back, "I know, but the hurt still lingers."

"Is there anything I can do? Anything I can endure for you... my darling?"

I blinked at the chestnut hues of his look towards me, "Please," I said, "make love to me... and make it very slow and very gentle... let me be with you... let me think about you... and... us."

He smiled with a simple dazzle of small pleasure, stroking my face with the back of his fingers and coursing them down from my jaw to my neck and clavicle, "You want me to do that? I have a strong urge, and **_I_** want _you_... but are you sure?"

"Yes, and Barnabas? Please draw from me, try and understand what I'm going through. I can't explain it."

He pressed his lips to my chest, my sternum, bringing himself over me and I welcomed it, carefully, as he led himself into me. I was afraid, but less than I would have been to deny this to him or myself. He pushed with a precise gentleness and my folds released to surround him. My hips rocked in time with his and our intercourse of face was ever present in the profound need of what was so difficult to understand. I loved him and he loved me... but something was marring that love and it was our past together.

Moving up my scant night-dress, he reached his hand to my ribs and mildly clasped my breast as I inhaled with the surge it gave me. He continued to advance his way through to my core. Slipping through, sliding out. And I still loved him... but I remembered, and I was fearful and angry at that. As he pressed into me and I welcomed it, I thought, "Can't this all go away? Can't we be in love and forget or at least forgive?" No... no... Barnabas was right... what I needed to come to terms with was preordained and he knew it.

I took his neck and shoulders, resting my arms around them as we continued kissing, progressing our love in the longing together that what was happening simply would. It simply ought _not_ to happen... but it would. And we pressed our lips in the sadness that this was happening... as we knew... it would. Our cheeks stroked each other and our tears finally met. No... this was meant to be... and we would have to live through it.

* * *

Times went by in which I had to sit alone. The bond that was growing, the thoughts I could hear from his mind were beginning to fade and the more we were separated, the more the fear of him and the angered confusion at him preyed on me. I recall Barnabas coming to look for me in the woods and he found me. Something in his expression... about to call out to me, but then noticed my puzzling and my hurt. Resigning himself to my need to be alone he would wander away again, long dark coat wavering as he stepped from me.

Days and nights seemed to grow and stretch out. The flashes of remembrance shaking me. Barnabas' hands around my throat, shoving me down in my room, intimidating me in his madness. One night I found an injured wolf in these woods, suffering like me, but with broken bones rather than a breaking heart. And I did the only thing I could do in my thirst and spared him his life. Then I petted his coat, softened by the strange mist of the sea and kissed his head as he shut his eyes to journey into that other world I'd known so many times before.

I knelt there looking at the relieved form of this lone wolf, his salt and pepper coat, and his last breath. I gathered his hunger from the blood I'd taken from his throat. It sobered me some and brought certain necessities of this life to light for me. The new nourishment gave me strength to do what I needed to do, but who would I share this need with?

"Willie..." I declared softly, coming to the realization as I spoke his name, "Yes... Willie."

As I stepped into The Old House I saw my husband asleep in his chair by the fire, fingers clasped together over his chest and his elbows resting on the arms of it. Fighting the urge to seize by the fistful, I let my fingers weave through his hair, gently stirring him. He looked up with that echo of sadness I knew from his sickbed so long ago. My memories as Josette giving pity to him for what was happening.

"Dearest," he murmured, "bless you... you haven't touched me for days."

"I touch you... where we sleep," I told him, bending his elbow on the arm of the chair as I slid my hand from his shoulder down his arm, our hands clasping as I stood over him.

"Yes," he sighed, softly, "and yet... your lips give me sorrow and your embrace has been so restive."

"No," I said, "not restive. Perhaps placid at times..." I refuted, mildly.

"Tender enough, I know you've been unhappy. Contemplative. Can I help in _any_ way?"

"Yes," I nodded once, "live through it... with me."

"For you? Always," he promised, kissing my hand.

"Where's Willie?" I inquired.

"I believe he's upstairs in his room. He has some new design work he was rather engrossed with but that intensity may have passed," answered Barnabas.

"Good, I need to speak with him."

"Any reason?" he asked me, a little concerned.

"Yes," I said, letting go of his hand and reaching the railing, "a very, very large one."

* * *

_Again, another chapter I hadn't anticipated. My original draft of this novel was simply erotica. Now it seems to be melding into an actual story of healing wounds and excavating the method of how to go about that. I see the authenticity here, which is important. It is passionately ever after, but delving into the pain also needs to happen. I believe this is why many non-fans of the idea might presume a story about it would entail Maggie magically forgetting all the hurt. No. She wouldn't._


	12. Chapter 12: Willie's Wounds

_This came out of some re-investigating I did on Willie Loomis' experience trying to warn Maggie Evans in "Dark Shadows". If anyone recalls, he was worried for her safety and ran to the Evans Cottage to warn her. As a result he was shot by the police who lay in waiting to discover her kidnapper. (And shot at least five times. Yikes!) He was in the hospital quite a while from these injuries before moving on to Wyndcliff Sanitarium. When he returned on the original program, to my knowledge, it was never discussed. This was why in my story "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" I addressed that between Willie and Barnabas. Both that scene and this one have been a struggle to unravel. Would enjoy some perspective on it. Thanks._

* * *

Chapter 12: Willies Wounds

I was coming to terms with the unfortunate factor in this life that Barnabas had committed dreadful crimes due to what became of him. When I remembered everything and more was explained to me by Pop I blamed the source for it all: Angelique Bouchard. It was a better situation to consider that way. Still, I knew the anger and resentment would come out. I was yearning to release that in some way if I could as inside it was beginning to mar the happiness in my marriage and the worry that I couldn't face that was something Barnabas had been deeply concerned about as well.

I heard the shuffling of steps as I knocked on the door. Willie opened it looking like he half expected someone else, that curiousity in his face lightening as he recognized mine.

"Maggie?" he asked, "it's good to see you. You've been alone so much I was gettin' a little worried about'cha."

"It's a long story, and likely one you know about, Willie. May I come in?"

"... sure! Sure..., just have a seat here. Mind if I sit on the bed? My backside is sore from the harder chair."

I sat, "Oh... Lie _down_ on the bed for all I care, Willie. We aren't strangers here, are we? We're family."

He snickered in his usual way, "Of course, of course... perhaps I'll just lounge back on the headboard." Then he lifted the pillow to brace his back against said headboard, and not much of a headboard, truth be told. "Now, y'look like you wanted to tell me something."

"More ask you, Willie. I... well, I've been by myself so much because of what happened between the three of us... you know... when I was kidnapped."

Willie blew a breath of air out, "Ohhh, boy. I was surprised that didn't come up before you to got married... well, I guess it did, but... not... like this?"

"No, Willie... not like this. I've been re-living it. At first it was in flashes and now we're getting distant, or I am, or I don't know. Barnabas wants me to be angry at him and I have been. But then he's so kind when I am I don't know how to let it out. I was hoping I could ask you about what happened to you... you know... when you went away after trying to rescue me from his idea of...of..."

"Of killin' ya, do you mean?" Willie finally ventured.

"Yes... and _you_ were gone such a long time, and you'd been hurt so badly... on my account."

Willie Loomis crossed his arms, holding his elbows in his hands and leaning his head back, his eyes closing half-way, "Ya mean... while I was gone? Ya know... it was more of a dream in some ways, Maggie. Maybe I was so pumped full of medicine for the pain... y'know, them taking the bullets out of me... I gotta hard time figurin' out what really happened. I don't like to think of that, really... so can I tell ya about a bettah part of it?"

"Yes," I said, "tell me anything about it. I just need to think about you're being in the hospital and at Wyndcliff and why you were there."

When Willie Loomis explained to me the dream he had, I feel I cannot express it in his words, which are usually small and adequate, but hard to translate to anyone later.

What Willie told me was both tangibly erotic and horrifically sensual. He hadn't told it to any of the staff at the sanatorium. Why would anyone want to tell this to a working professional? One would rather tell of this to a friend. And such, I suppose, I would be. After all, it was an odd predicament we found ourselves in now. Once upon a time I had been the kidnapped Maggie Evans, hypnotized into being a poor representation of Josette Dupres. I had almost no recollection of that life in 1795 and, as my husband continues to mourn, the keys to who I was then were limited to him as well.

But what all this did for Willie Loomis provided a duality of the pathetic and strange. He'd shown himself as the likely side-car of Jason McGuire's despicable treachery. But then he became a victim to Barnabas' madness and his curse, as I did later on. It was why I came to ask him what he went through at the hospital and at Wyndcliff.

As we sat in his shabby quarters, of which I kept suggesting be changed and he insisted not, Willie Loomis explained to me, shakily, what happened when he was moved from the hospital to the sanitarium, a place we both knew well.

Perhaps it was a drug induced stupor that caused him to imagine this, or the shock of all he'd gone through. But that nurse, was as kind as any could be, from what he told me. This is why I've made the effort to reach out to her for his sake. And from what I've gathered, she's not taken undue notice toward him. He wasn't making up any flicker or gleam between them. But still, what he described terrified me. For all that, his wounds had been on my account.

My fear comes from what he said; he isn't sure if it was a dream or not. But the risk of infection on such a plight would be a concern, especially by one in the medical profession, which is without any doubt… her. He had to remain on his stomach many long days and nights to heal from bullets so pummeled into him… and, as he said, there were doors opening and shutting, lights flickering, darkness and shadow, the inability to know the difference between day and night, and for some reason, not a clock in the room that he could see.

Still, he did heal… but as he healed… something slowly took place, in arcs of time he had to cobble together in the end, so that it was like a long string of images that came in sync to form a single fantasy that fed the psyche into a shorter span of time, as he fumblingly expressed it later.

It was a moistness on his back… a warm moistness. A smooth probing that awoke him in the half light, a kissing sensation that poured over him, as a soft hand gently stroked the back of his head and neck. I could not ask him if it really was truly a dream to him. I could only pray that it was not. Some_thing_ or some_one_ was genuinely trying to sooth him, and I thanked heaven for it, even it was only an inner realm of his subconscious.

It had to be a woman, the lightness of breath that he described, the slimness of touch, the echo of sweet lips upon his ears. It stimulated him in all his uncertain mobility. It had to be more than kissing she did, as he had to describe to me that thick moistness trailing along his spine, warm but not watery, with the coolness that comes later when the air slowly moves over each damp area. Again, from what he was telling me, could it really be a dream? And wasn't this someone that had spent so much time with him? That discussed her smaller interests? That was so pleasant to us when we came looking for him?

She could hardly massage his back, as it was so tormented with the muscle splitting damage, torn skin and the metal that had to be removed… but _She… _according to what he experienced, or perhaps only dreamed, so lightly suckled and licked on those areas, something loving and painfully sweet. Someone, who'd known him and wanted to know him more… someone who tried to face him in the dark, but whose face he could barely make out in this memory of it now.

"Did she never kiss you, Willie?" I asked, "Didn't she speak to you, or look into your face?"

"Ya know," he answered slowly, "I thought she had… but then, I thought I felt I was… on her… and it must'a just been the bed itself."

"That's all right," I told him, "Willie, just tell me… did you try and touch… _her?_"

He did. He was certain she knelt to face him and he'd slipped his fingers along her jawline and they tenderly kissed. Then the way he described her lips, full and soft and almost candied, wasn't what I expected. Something just too vivid to be a dream.

That's when I knew, I _had_ to find her and bring her here. His own description was too visceral, even for him, that **that** particular piece of the puzzle was only a fantasy to him? It must have happened. And then I remembered that old Willie Loomis… the mean and cruel imbecile that once snorted out insults and made improper passes at us all.

Did we ever give him credit for being able to change? And what had changed him? It was something terrible, I know, and hard to understand how something so awful, as his helplessness could alter that behaviour. Or was it also having to change who he was _around_ most of the time? Still, when I sat, listening to him, and comparing the two, there seemed such a stark difference. I'd think of one as brusque and unfeeling as a lover, not delicate in his attempt to caress another as he was describing.

"You… you… you don't mind that I'm tellin' you all this, do ya?" he suddenly asked. I hadn't realized we'd both been silent for over a minute.

"No, no," I answered quickly, "I understand. There are always times that you want to make sure you're not imagining things… or trying to decide what was real and what wasn't."

"Do… do ya think, it… could have happened, Maggie?"

"Anything is possible… especially around here, you know. But when it comes to that… are you sure it wasn't only her cleaning you with a warm rag on your back?"

He had that usual quiet snicker, looking down, "Maggie… wash rags don't exactly pucker, do they?"

"True… but, I suppose I've got to wonder how _you_ felt about it. Were you shocked? Or…?"

"I hafta tell ya… I got the chills, but… you know… the surprised kind… and then… the good kind."

I had to softly smile at this. Something in such a situation, that could be creepy on one hand, and beautiful on the other, seemed to fit Mr. Loomis. It had to be so beyond his experience. I found myself very grateful that in all that time someone had taken his pathetic form to her heart and perhaps could build his confidence, which he needed very carefully built up. Carefully, because I remember the cocky, un-sober Willie Loomis who was indifferent to the truth, as long as he could get something expensive out of it. I had no desire to see that man again. Who he was exploring himself to be, someone deeper, and thoughtful, was who I wanted to see, and when it came down to it, so did everyone else in a way. Who could object to such a gentle man, if indeed he _could_ be in the end?

"Willie," I asked, "you sound so unsure where this took place. Could it have actually been the sanitarium?"

"A'course it could… _if_ it happened, Maggie… like I said, everything is such a blur… except how she touched me… _j-u-s-t_ the way she pressed her lips on my back… ran her fingers through my hair… and…" he faltered.

"And what? Her shadow?" I asked.

"That's not the right word for it… I think… I think," he sighed, trying to come up with it.

I waited.

"The one thing… stronger than anything else I can remember about it." His eyes had been open but they closed now, lost in the thought.

"Yes?"

"Was… her… silhouette."

* * *

We had sat there for several minutes, or perhaps only one. He was so mesmerized and I welcomed this change in him. Perhaps... all this happening was the right thing... or... No. It could make beautiful things happen, of course, but that wasn't what I came here to reflect. The bullets, the pain, the change, and how much Willie Loomis had done for the both of us, for all of us.

My heart, now circulating the blood of the beast I'd swallowed, gave me darker thoughts. Something passionate but still angry, and more angry than having the anxiety of it. I was growing determined.

"Willie," I beckoned him out of his reverie, "would you help me with something?"

"What would that be, Maggie?" he asked.

"Do we have any shackles in the byway of the cellar?"

"What? The chains? What d'yeh need those for?" Willie grew concerned, he uncrossed his ankles, switched his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. His shoes touched the ground.

"Well I don't want anything dirty... wouldn't want my bed filled with filth."

A look of incredulity formed on his face, "Well... I mean, some have been cleaned up enough to look new, but I didn't think they'd been cleaned for... for the purpose of... what is it ya wanna do?"

"Willie, how strong do you think my bed is now?"

He began to peer at me, not sure whether to be shocked or to smile, "Maggie, are you thinking of... chainin' him down?"

"Yes," I nodded, decisively, "I have to do something and he knows it."

Willie eyes widened in a semi-horror, his vest seemed to hang even looser on him as he rested his arms on his knees to face me, "How are you going to do that?"

"Wait until he's asleep," I told him, so flatly I wasn't sure I was feeling anything when I said it.

"Ya... ya... you really want to do that, Maggie?" he quavered.

"Yes, tonight while I'm still so upset. It's been surging on me, Willie. I have to throw all that outrage at him. It's burning me up not to."

Willie leaned back, lapsing his hand back from his knees and pressing them on his waist in some bafflement, "All... alright. I'll get them for you. I'm not sure how you aim to get them fixed up by tonight." He rose and stepped with a heavy tread to his door, but I caught his sleeve before he reached the knob.

"He's resting down stairs. He's very tired over this, I'm sure, fades in and out of consciousness. I'll bring him upstairs when we're done putting it together and let him believe things are better. But can you get something for me afterward?"

"Sure..." he sighed, " what else do you need?"

I tried to catch his eyes so he knew I meant it, "A very large bucket of ice."

What came from his shake of sandy hair and uncertainty could have fooled others as laughter, but it didn't fool me.

"Maggie..." he uttered, "you ain't foolin' around... are ya?"

"No," I said, a cold wrath starting to take over now, "I'm not. And believe me Willie, I'm not only doing this for my sake anymore. I'm doing it for yours, too."

* * *

_Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows notes (which you are welcome to skip) : As my radio drama became less farcical and more of a series with comedic relief while incorporating romance, drama, etc. I knew I was getting closer to bringing Willie Loomis back into the fold. I was afraid to write for him but wasn't sure why. When I delved further into his character he made me realise that not only did I have life experiences close to his but also that I understood almost all of the characters in their troubles and personal afflictions. _

_The more I struggled with bringing him in, the more I cared for him and didn't want to see him harmed. That's when I fell in love with him and with a **thud.** I'd originally left him out to give him a better Collinwood to come back to, but then found myself becoming extremely protective which may very well be something almost no other fan of Mr. Loomis has experienced. (I would be happy to be wrong about this.)_

_If Barnabas and Maggie/Josette have melted the 8 years of ice in my 21 year relationship with my (now) husband, Willie Loomis made the first crack in that ice. __I can safely admit that, yes, Mr. Loomis (&amp; Mr. Karlen) have given us something very precious indeed. Thanks._


	13. Chapter 13: Healing Part 1: Shackled

_I understand this may be a lovely thrill for some but the main purpose is to give authenticity to what Barnabas has to go through in terms of Maggie's kidnapping and her being Josette Dupres. It should provide some startling discoveries. Often I pick up from fans how Josette is lovable but not adequately developed. What with the research I do on Josette Dupres, the more I find good reason for Her to be the woman of his true desire and longing. She has amazing qualities indeed, and blended with the other two characters, performed by the same actress, She shines even brighter. I knew I had to discover how they would handle this together, and do what they've always done, "Endure". :) Thanks_

* * *

Chapter 13: Healing Part One: Shackled

A tickle along my ribs finally awoke me. Anything I'd worn she must have removed. When I reached my arm down from my head my wrist was yanked back with a rattling and I could feel the sturdy cuff of metal holding me, not tightly but enough to know I wouldn't be going far. I tried to move my feet. Same sensation around my ankles. One sheet covered me but that was being removed from my chest by her silhouette in the dark. Her form and face becoming clearer now that qualms of what was to come began rising from my center.

I knew this would happen to me sooner or later. I'd been hoping it was sooner, but my bride can be very surprising and I'd have her no other way. Perhaps Josette Dupres in her original form would never have been so extreme, but I knew with everything we'd gone through, and what I'd put her through in her other incarnations, I deserved whatever was coming to me and it was worth enduring just to know she was mine and I was hers.

However, I cannot deny I found some thrill here within her room. So many times I'd wanted her back, and promised myself I'd go through whatever torture was necessary to have her again. Now was the time to make good on that promise. And no, it did not remind me whatsoever of times I'd been chained before. Those memories were very far from my mind. What came to me in some slow occurrences were times when I'd kidnapped my poor bride, times we'd gone through together and separated with so much agony. What had I done to her when she'd disobeyed me? I cannot say. I'm sure I could recall it if I tried but it scared me so now to look back on it. Had I been so terrible? Yes I had. Would she return the favour? Oh yes, indeed she would.

"Barnabas...?" I heard her sweet voice call my name. Presumably she was beside me, so I tried to turn, but I barely could. My wrists were held in cuffs and my legs had little give. _"Oh, dear,"_ I thought, _"Josette had requested some very solid craftsmanship on her new bed, didn't she?"_ These fixtures to the woodwork made it quite easy to understand which parts of the furniture held the chains to which she had shackled me. I heard the rattling of the metal as I tried to move. My eyes had not adjusted to the darkness. The fire was in embers and the candles blown out.

"So, my love," I said, "it has come."

"Yes," I could hear her smile from the dark, "any last requests?"

"Please," I uttered, "assure me that the door is locked."

"It is," she said lowly, and then I listened as the padding of her bare footsteps wandered to the door, twisting the handle so that I could hear the metal noises of it stalling as she attempted to open it against the closure. Ah, at least of this I can be thankful.

"Would you like to know what's going to happen? Or would you like to be surprised?" she asked, the softness in her voice creating a strange torment to my soul.

"What do you think I deserve?" I asked her.

"Well," she said, as her footsteps came closer, "that's the question, isn't it? Perhaps knowing will make it worse for you? Or perhaps not knowing exactly what's going on in the dark?"

I heard her feet shift, and then a rustling noise. A hard noise like rocks, or... Next I heard a very light squeak, something heavy being lifted and then put down closer to the bed, the rustling sound again like a bucket being placed on the floor. But a bucket of what?

I saw her silhouette lean down, a red glow from the embers around her. A very light, short nightdress, I believe. Something very sheen and soft. The thought of that comforted me as I lay there prone to suffer. The rustling noise as she reached down into the receptacle did not comfort me. The sound like when we'd shared the hang over cures that one morning ages ago.

_Ice._

"You never did tell me what you were going to do. Remember, Barnabas?" she asked, again, softly, sweetly, with angelic wonder and grace, while plotting such deviltry.

"What..." I faltered, "what did I tell you?"

She knelt before the bed and stroked my face, "You said I would be punished. You repeated it over and over again. It drove me mad. It terrified me. You would never tell me what you would do, but you kept threatening me. That same word: punish." Then she breathed, almost a moan, "Ah, it has made me so sad to remember all of this time."

She glided her fingers over my lips which allowed me to kiss them, my only offering so far, "But tonight?" I asked with trepidation.

"Tonight?" she asked, "no. It certainly doesn't make me sad tonight, _mon demón_."

Automatically I attempted to reach for her with my left hand, there was some allowance of movement but I couldn't do it.

"I see," she told me, "too frightened to move at all. I did provide a little give, Barnabas. You aren't held tightly."

I exhaled gratefully and managed to touch her face. My skin tingled, not in anticipation but in this moment of safety. She hadn't hurt me yet. I tried to maintain a present mind.

"Will it make any difference to you, my love?" I asked.

"Will what, Barnabas?"

"That I'm willing... and... I am waiting..."

"Well," her smile an echo in the shadowy light, taking the back of my hand to her cheek, "some might say it defeats the purpose... but I... understand."

Then she let my hand drop as she stood up, the echo of the chains rattling behind my ear. No power betwixt God or Man could hold me in this grip as I was so held this night before her, my most giving, lovely bride.

She undraped the sheet from my lower half and a chill fell around my helplessness. "Let it come," I prayed, "let me endure what I must... for Her."

She stood above me. A chunk of burning log dropping in the hearth and sparking a semi-light in the dark, giving me a glimpse of her beautiful brown eyes, and her velvet lashes. She just stood there, making me wait in loss and wonderment of her beauty. Her pause stopped my wondering.

"I know it wasn't all your fault," she said taking my hand, "all the terrible things you put me through. But... all our time opposing each other in ignorance, I remember those little portraits."

"Josette," I breathed, not daring to move, "what can you mean?"

"People look at you in your eloquence, in your stolid manner and I admit I do as well. But I know the boy. I know he's in there still. I can look far into the dead centre of your eyes and find him. I know you're scared and I know who you're scared of and what."

"Who?" I asked, confused.

"No one outside this room..." she warned, no longer stabbing the dark with her words, but stabbing me.

"Will nothing tame my Josette?" I spoke, uncertain who I was asking.

"We can only wonder," she said, removing her hand from mine, "As you punished me well enough in the past, I'd have to have something in return for all of that."

I felt her hand course up my leg and fears of castration entered my mind. It wasn't nearly so bad, but she could make me speculate how close she was getting without truly causing any damage. All I could do was lie there, lie there and pray for her tender mercies. I would not object, I deserved whatever my Josette had to give me. She was under no spell but her pride to have won. I could do nothing more but welcome it... and of course... _flinch_.

* * *

_To be continued in Healing Part Two: Punishment..._


	14. Chapter 14: Healing Part 2: Punishment

_Here is the continuation of "Healing Part One: Shackled". Phew! I hope y'all are enjoying this. It's tough, but it's to authenticate the reality of their union. Poor things. :(_

* * *

Chapter 14: Healing Part Two: Punishment

My angry bride, preparing to serve me my just rewards for past monstrosities, worked her lips so close to my ear that her breath formed pulses of strange delight along a line of nerves from beneath my shoulder blade to the small of my back.

"You've begged me before," Maggie apprised, "will you beg me again?"

"Oh," I moaned, carefully, "what do you wish-"

Suddenly she shifted away from me and a riotous splendour of absolute shocking cold gripped my stomach. But she wasn't done. She took the pieces and began spreading them all over me... and she knew just where to put them... the warmest recesses of any human body, first along my chest, under my arms, my neck and then the worst of all, down where my manhood had practically ceased to exist. I made good to breathe achingly not for any dishonest appearance, but because it hurt. She needed to do this, I needed to experience it, but it was no joy except perhaps the end result I longed for, that she would be... free of it.

_Yes, I had spoken the wrong words, as perhaps I needed to for her to challenge me and release herself. She wanted me to plead, to beg. I would._

"I do," I beseeched, shivering "I beg you, please," I reached to gently touch her face now that it was so close, hoping this would be a comfort somehow. Maggie's expression remained neutral from what I could see. She was resolved to have her punishment returned upon me, and likely would be in the future. No anger stirred in me whatsoever. If she felt it was the only way to heal our burdens, after all I'd already done to win her affection to the altar; she was and always will be allowed _more_.

"Forgive me," however much these icicles stung my flesh, my entrails, and my heart, I pleaded to my wounded bride, "I offer the most humble penitence to you. All harm you wish to bestow on me I willingly accept."

She released her hand from moving those frozen pieces inducing me with so much pain, bringing it up to take mine and she kissed my palm. The danger had passed but it didn't concern me and I continued, "Forgive me, my dearest bride, forgive me..."

She let the words come out slowly, "All in good time."

Next she drifted to the embers of the fire and knelt before it, leaving me to wallow in the horrendous chill of the melting ice. It seared over my heart. A thought struck me that perhaps I had the power to warm myself by-

"Don't even think about it." I heard her interrupt. She knew what went through my mind, even now.

She took a poker, rifling at the embers, then began placing some tinder so that the fire would grow. The ice was melting and dripping around me. The only warm part of me may have been my head. My skin stung with the frost and I made good to focus on it, experiencing as much of this horror as I could, loving her that dearly.

I waited breathing and hoping for warmth. The closest I got to that was seeing the light of the fire burn brighter and she knelt before it, placing a log atop the blazing sticks. More kindling went around and over it. She waited for the cut wood to burn.

"Are you cold enough, my dear?"

"Almost... frozen... but" I shivered, "you may... pour on more... if... you... like."

She sighed with mock tiredness, "No... I think not," then she turned her head toward me, "Wait... did I sense disappointment from you?"

"Perhaps," I shuddered, "but we can't believe it could be all finished in a single night."

"I've had my curiousity over that one, but," she faltered, "we'll see how I take to it. The enjoyment is oddly fascinating."

I licked my lips, trying to bring my thoughts out as the icy moisture flowed around me, "I never enjoyed bringing harm to you, Maggie."

"_Didn't you?"_ her words stung.

"No."

She turned away from the fire, moving from her kneel and placing her arms below her upturned knees. The gown she wore was scant that almost all of her silken legs were visible against the varying glints of firelight. She continued to speak softly, "What _did_ you feel, Barnabas? Throttling me? Thrashing me? Threatening me? What made inflicting that on me worth it to you?"

The torture of these words was made worse by the darkness cast over one side of her face, out of touch with the light. Considering whom she was and who she had revealed herself to be made these questions difficult. She was Josette and neither of us knew that at the time I'd been harming her so.

"I was... angry."

"At me? At Willie? At Angelique? Who were you angry with, Barnabas?"

"I hardly remembered Angelique then. I suppose I was angry with the two of you. To me it seemed simple with what powers I could generate. I believe I was angry at the world, at my life, at the confusion. At everything. I was so... enraged to have lost... _you_..."

She breathed slowly, "You certainly had lost me. So much so you could barely recall me either."

"I remembered you more so than any other, my darling." I confessed.

Josette rose and I watched the lace on the bottom of her short nightdress ripple as she walked toward me. As I shuddered and asked myself, _"Am I only shivering at the aching pain surrounding me, or her ability to ensure my total servitude to her?"_

"I'm glad to hear that question," she responded. I'd asked it loudly enough to myself, it made sense that she could locate this curiousity in my mind. The ice was beginning to sear my skin.

A sting threw my face to the left. She had slapped me, _hard_. But still, she had touched me. The feeling was hardly gentle, but...

"Oh, I see," she marvelled, "enjoyed that, did you?"

"Not exactly... although..."

**_SLAP! ...SLAP! ...SLAP!_**

I moaned and wasn't sure if it was agony or ecstasy. Maggie Evans... Josette Dupres... she was having her revenge on me and she was gaining her compensation as well. Exerting what I needed to be forgiven. The blows to my face were at least some small distraction to the icy chill surrounding me. As well as my pride coming up in all of this. Yes. I was proud of her.

I could feel Josette's anger towards me and her love. And in this new bond she noticed that I did and her hand slowly went down to her side at first but then came up and produced one more resounding strike across my face. She had strength and my cheeks burned with that strength. We both took a deep breath together and a deep exhale. I looked at her in loving appreciation, hoping she was sated.

_My sweet angel that I had turned foul... please... let everything out._

* * *

_To be concluded in Healing Part Three: Redemption_


	15. Chapter 15: Healing Part 3: Redemption

_Here's the finale of Healing in three parts. It was all very difficult to come to terms with. I put it off until I was almost done with my first draft of the entire book. I didn't want to put them through it and didn't want to go through it myself, but I knew it was necessary. I was surprised at the result as well. I wasn't sure how she would handle this and was surprised and at what happened. Please leave commentary. Thanks._

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Chapter 15: Healing Part Three: Redemption

My face stung with the strikes across it by Josette's hand. The movements brought a wind that made the icy chill across my naked body even worse. I wondered how long my bride would carry on in this way. Perhaps until dawn. I would take it, though. I would endure anything for her. Yes, I already had her, but I would never take that for granted. I swore that to myself when I married this Maggie Evans, my Josette reborn. I adored her, had been horrible to her. It wasn't entirely my fault, but it was still my crime. I'd won her love and I would go on winning it through time. A marriage renewed again and again is a marriage worth having. _God knows I savoured mine._

Something altered her shadowy expression as I looked up at her. Those dark eyes filled with hunger; a more delicate form of rage. I saw myself in those eyes. It was more than my reflection, it was a parcel of the insanity I'd inflicted on her all those years ago. I watched as the underside of her hand lowered down, losing focus for me. I believed she might smoothly stroke my face. The tips of fingers glided down my chin, the underside of my jaw.

Exhaling was the incorrect thing for me to do in this instance, as to pull in any breath was gone. I tried gasping for it but she pressed her right hand down onto my throat with such extreme force even the slaps and the freezing ice escaped what I was feeling! Involuntarily I choked in a moan and even this was mercy from her, but not for long. She moved her hand only to take a tighter grip with both.

Yes, this was what I had done to her and now she was giving it all back to me. My eyes were shut but I could practically see the malicious disgust on her face. As she gripped my throat so hard, suffocating my lungs her arms began to shake with convulsions that reached me further, rattling my entire frame. I began truly fearing how far she would take this.

Her voice became a whispering growl to my ear, "Do you have any idea how you've **shamed** us all, Barnabas Collins? _Do you?_"

In such a lack of air I couldn't answer but this struck a feeling to my chest harder than the slaps had been. It went to the core of all I was and wanted to be. I felt the tears come to my eyes but I kept them shut. I could not endure to see this contempt for me on her face, the sweetest beauty that ever graced the earth with her spirit, blessing us all, but tormented by all that had happened and so much being my fault.

Josette uttered in this new voice most horrible to me, so much worse than all the previous pain, "_Shame_..."

The tears finally left from my closed lids and poured back. I expected physical harm but this was worse. Her emotions and her words were ever present and would haunt me in throes of misery for many inevitable nightmares to come.

Perhaps she saw the tears or she had told me what she needed to, as I could now gasp in tiny breaths and then in longer ones. I blinked my eyes open, lashes damp with grief. I finally found my voice and her anger calmed, "Yes... yes, my love. I know. I will deny nothing."

Her mouth opened and suddenly she was at my throat again but this time it was to feed and drink what she could with a vengeance. No pleasure could I derive from this experienced having known so many others. The fluid poured from me in my helplessness and the pain of it was like knives. Would she know my current thoughts and feelings in this exchange?

Josette released me and stopped. She swallowed and breathed deeply, strongly, centering herself. Crouching down she picked up something nearby. Then I was surprised to feel a plush cushioning against my skin. It soaked the icy moisture away from my flesh. She was drying me now. _It was Heaven._

As she towelled dry my cold aches and pains, she groped at cubes of ice that had melted down to nodules and dropped them back into the metal bucket. She tended my skin delicately with the cloth and I began to warm again. Then she leaned down and kissed me on the lips. A metal clicking sounded as I reached what I could of her face and hair, trailing all around my head, the smell of it intoxicating me in new ways.

Our lips parted and I gently asked, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Her face softened, "Can you... _bring yourself forth_... for me?"

I sensed a double meaning there, but she lowered her head and spread kisses upon the lower half of my torso, my hands stroking her hair as I lay there docile. I concentrated on the pleasure sweeping away the pain, her face warmed by the fire, her lips pursing their way along my frigid chest, slowly, as she stroked me below to relieve and encourage me, or dare I say inspire me? I leaned myself up to reach her as her mouth met mine and her hand below released from its then gentle manipulation of me.

_You were a gentleman before, and I'll see to it you are one again..._

Suddenly I was haunted by these words she had told me before we were even engaged again to wed in this life. I suppose she was proving it to herself in this way. The force she possessed now thrilled me again. I wanted to embrace her dearly but the chains held me so I could not reach for her. I was desperate to hold her but I knew she must have her way in this. What she was doing to me now enticed me madly as I began to desire her. Perhaps she didn't want me now. Perhaps this was a tease to my affections.

Josette continued to fondle and caress me with her silken fingers and lips. She knew I was ready, but would she have me? I had grown desperate, the blood in me had circulated quickly and her fury ignited a desire to be taken by her, a desire so strong that it surprised me. _Please_, I thought, _let us be united in this._

Her bringing herself over me, a drape of dry bedclothes behind her, her mouth upon mine was the only reassurance. I could only attempt a small lift to incline myself toward this.

The tension flared in our kiss and I'd become so solid that when her womanhood again embraced me beneath the bed linens I tried to pull away in shock from the pain. My arms straitening I fell back to the cushions and lost her kiss. I barely noticed the dampness of the sheets beneath us. The clamps she'd placed on me were producing sweat from my wrists and ankles.

My bride became still, watching me with concern and petting my face kindly. It helped me to notice that the pain of her blows to my cheeks was drifting away. I blinked, and a memory came back when long ago I had whispered, _"Maggie... are you sure about... me?"_

That's when she started moving and I closed my eyes in the sensation of her surrounding me again. The damage to my throat, the biting and strangling faded as the knowledge of her fed back through me. Dare I touch her? Dare I coil my fingers around her lovely parts? I could barely reach her, of course. She increased her position so that I was going further than before, perhaps due to her knees moving up on either side of me and pushing down and away, we both inhaled sharply as she halted, aware of nothing but where we were as matrimonial consorts, as lovers, as friends.

She moved over me so I could finally touch her. My hands went up, chains rattling from the my manacled wrists, sweeping across her bosom to her shoulders and she came down to touch my lips with hers, her arms finding their way around me once more and I moved with her again, within her again.

Then the memory of what I'd asked her long ago came back

_Was she sure?_ She hadn't spoken.

Actions do speak louder than words but then her answer came out, "I've never been surer of anything... in all of my lives. It took me this long to reach you, my dearest."

I came back to the present with this understanding. She was sure.

Then she leaned over me to grab something, of which I do not know and a gentler clinking sound occurred. She separated us and in that renewed loss of bliss I worried more pain would come. "Just welcome it," I told myself, but she'd made me want her so horribly...

One ankle was free of restraint, and then the other as she unlocked the braces at my legs and moved them away. Then she reached for the manacles at my wrists and I was free, but even in my relief I was afraid to move.

I could hear the ropes of metal clink and fall into piles of their own on all four corners of our bed. ... Yes... I was willing to claim this place as ours now. Perhaps I may not always say so, but tonight I felt I had earned to share this room with her.

"Yes, you have," Josette answered, a true woman in charge, "you've been very good, my dear. Very, _very_ good."

I meant to thank her but she straddled me again and this time it was her that looked to be in pain, not that I didn't have my shake from being grappled below, her warmest parts and mine joined once more. Her head leaned back. She pressed her hands on my chest to support herself and I felt a tightness inside her I was unfamiliar with. This experience had increased our devotion, but already?

My arms were released but I was afraid to lift them up to her. She finally began to move above me and breathe with excitement. I reached for her hands on my chest and turned hers to embrace them, moving with so much passion I feared I'd let myself go at any moment if either of us weren't careful. Josette's torment to Kitty's sacrifice to Maggie's pain had finally evolved for me a vengeful lust, and I was positive she could complete it for herself.

The minutes passed in this new exhilaration as she glided back and forth above me, taking complete control as she needed to compel me with. I needed this as well. The grip of our hands became tighter upon my sternum. Then a warm moisture splashed to my hands.

_No-o-o..._ No, _not now_, she was so close. She can't break down now, but she had. Her sobs were echoing in the stillness of our unity.

_"W-h-y?"_ she asked, her voice melting with the tears that dripped down her cheeks.

I released my hands from hers to take her by the arms and we moved to face each other side by side, releasing our parts again below. I kept the bedclothes wrapped over us. Perhaps that would help. I stroked the top of her head and down her silken hair.

"Margaret Josette Dupres? What harms you now? Please, do whatever you want to me, whatever helps."

She continued to cry, shaking, exhaling and then inhaling to gulp down the tears, "Why... did... all of these things... happen to us?"

Here was a question no one could answer. The realm of all existence lay on this inquiry. The depths of our persona were created in all of these horrible actions and how we dealt with their results. Her question, especially as Josette Dupres, struggling through new lives to reach me, was the necessary person beyond any other to seek these answers. But the power of her anger to seek vengeance on me wielded itself into the power of her grief to the necessity of doing so.

"Don't be sorry, my dearest," I consoled her as we lay side by side. I placed her palm along the left portion of my chest, "feel my heart. Just feel it. And cry or scream, harm me or love me, call me your demon. Do what you will... as long as we belong to each other... That's all that matters to me."

Her tears cleared as she stared at her hand over my heart. She sniffed and looked up at me, eyes flitting back and forth in a smile that crept up. How I adored those eyes. I always knew it was her when they moved like that. And she was right. Third time _is_ the charm and Maggie Evans had guided her lives to this, along with the rest of us. If only I'd known how to uncover that when I first saw her, shorter of skirt, startled at first, but willing to keep me company over a cup of no fancy brew. (Strong as it could be.) Always as giving as my Josette was and as, my Josette, she still is.

I looked into her eyes and thought of that night. There we were again in that bed but sharing that memory at the table she waited on. Sitting side by side once more in total ignorance that we'd met again. We thought of that together as we lay there, the dampness beneath me on the sheets, the dampness on my thumb as it slid across her cheek. All the turmoil we'd suffered and here we were, our passion having been so strong, now our love was made that much stronger by what we'd overcome.

"Barnabas... hold me," she wept softly.

I did, and she returned my embrace. All of the strength of her violence becoming the strength in her love.

"No more," she uttered, a quaver in my ear, and then a whisper, "No more."

"Yes," I whispered toward her ear in return, "no more."

Our heads pulled away so that we faced each other again, "No more violence, my darling."

"No more pain?" she asked.

We kissed and she held my jaw in a fair gesture, fingers beaded around to my neck.

"No. No more pain," I said, "Only Dark Shadows... and Light."


	16. Chapter 16: Annabel Lee: Reborn

A lovely alteration of an old poem by Edgar Allen Poe to wrap up the pain of Maggie &amp; Barnabas' psychological troubles now spent from the three previous chapters.

Slightly altered, for the happiness of three relationships.

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Annabel Lee: Reborn

_It was many and many a year ago,_  
_In a kingdom by the sea,_  
_That a maiden lived whom you may know_  
_By the name of ANNABEL LEE;—_  
_And this maiden she lived with no other thought_  
_Than to love and be loved by me._

_I was a child and She was a child,_  
_In this kingdom by the sea,_  
_But we loved with a love that was more than love—_  
_I and my ANNABEL LEE—_  
_With a love that the wingéd seraphs of Heaven_  
_Coveted her and me._

_And this was the reason that, long ago,_  
_In this kingdom by the sea,_  
_A wind blew out of a cloud by night_  
_Chilling my ANNABEL LEE;_  
_So that her high-born kinsmen came_  
_And bore her away from me,_  
_To shut her up, in a sepulchre_  
_In this kingdom by the sea._

_The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,_  
_Went envying her and me;_  
_Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,_  
_In this kingdom by the sea)_  
_That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling_  
_And killing my ANNABEL LEE._

_But our love it was stronger by far than the love_  
_Of those who were older than we—_  
_Of many far wiser than we—_  
_And neither the angels in Heaven above_  
_Nor the demons down under the sea_  
_Can ever dissever my soul from the soul_  
_Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE:—_

_For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams_  
_Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;_  
_And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes_  
_Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;_  
_And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side_  
_Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride_  
_In our kingdom here by the sea—_  
_  
_

_We've found one another, and here she is mine,_

_Reborn to me now,_

_dare I question how?_

_I don't, I can not care any less_

_For our love is sublime_

_And we have all the time_

_To enjoy ourselves, ah, I am blessed_

_As the ocean waves roll_

_and the rocks take their toll_

_I turn away from them and what do I see?_

_Forever, my bliss_

_The fair woman I missed._

_The Beautiful ANNABEL LEE._

* * *

Since I was using Nabokov for inspiration on this novel I went back to one of his own inspirations, fitting for a gothic story, Edgar Allen Poe. I thought over the poem and saw so many elements that touched this story too.

So in this strange way, again that number three, all these relationships might have peace.

Barnabas has his Josette in Maggie.

Perhaps a redeemed and better Humbert has a loving, willing (&amp; older) Lolita, not necessarily Dolores Haze.

And Edgar Allen Poe may have his Annabel Lee. (Who was named the first incarnation of Lolita.)

* * *

This is not the end of the story, there is a great more to come, both in healing, passion and love.


	17. Chapter 17: To Love, To Speak, To Name

Okay, the LAST time this was posted **SOMEONE** reviewed with the phrase *ladyboner*. Was that YOU, Nikki? (She was the non DS fan &amp; porn-lover who said this whole thing would be my legacy, both "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" AND "Margaret Josette Dupres.") Everyone I've asked wishes they *could *claim that phrase! **Nikki,** if that was you, you better sign in to FF dot net and say so or I'm going to be ringing your cel phone until the battery **dies!**

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_"The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" notes (which you are welcome to skip:) Sam Evans is saved along the story line by Tony &amp; Carolyn swapping the portrait of Angelique with the portrait of Capt. Daniel Gregg from "The Ghost &amp; Mrs. Muir." They bring it to him because it had stains and needed to be cleaned and touched up. When he's out of the room they notice the portrait of Angelique he's working on, decide they have to get rid of it, and leave Capt. Gregg's portrait in it's stead as they run away._

_So Sam alters Angelique's painting, and with a vengeance this time around because he recalls not only a past life as Andre Dupres but some afterlife knowledge of what Angelique had done to Josette, his daughter in 1795. So both Sam and Maggie are reincarnations of those characters. Hence she'd switch back and forth from calling him "Pop" to calling him "Papa". (Fitting, eh?)_

_Later on Sam is also saved when the withered Angelique comes to investigate and demand her painting. Whoops! :) Tony &amp; Carolyn took it away, and he doesn't know where so he doesn't have it and can't tell her anything. Plus, The Ghost of Capt. Daniel Gregg is hanging around. Capt. Gregg's character is the type of ghost who goes unseen and unheard unless he "wishes it". So he has powers to help and suggest certain things to people. Angelique doesn't know Gregg is there and in a way Gregg likely kept her from harming Sam, as she might just do out of habit._

_(And I have to admit, I still laugh at the lines in that encounter. When Angelique announces that the painting is crucial to her existence, Sam replies, "I don't blame you for saying so. *Anything* might be crucial to *your* existence at this point... I'd wager 20 supplements a day!". :D ...I know, we all likely have that as a standard in the 21st century, but I figured in the 1960's one must have been rather hard-up to be taking that many.)_

_Hence "Pop" is saved, and so here, Josette talks about him briefly and that he's still working on paintings and likely more inspired than ever._

* * *

Chapter 17: To Love, To Speak, To Name

I have to admit… when I expected my husband to return from a trifling matter at the Main House of Collinwood… I had a few yearnings of my own I'd acquired. I'm sure his errand had something to do with a decanter and our Cousin Roger's machinations between some absurdity and his Sherry… for which we need look on with loving bemusement. As it all comes down to the essentials… Roger _is_ rather a gentleman when one gets to know him.

Still, I was looking forward to Barnabas's arrival… and I managed to get the other gentlemen away before he did. They sweetly ventured a few knowing smiles when I informed them of what I was after… Considering how big this homestead was… why _wouldn't _I wish to explore the avenues of love in all of its surfaces? And… with **Him**?

Now that we'd been through the worst of it, I found my love for him growing steadier and broader. He'd taken everything I thrown at him, all that I'd terrified myself to give and he'd even welcomed it. That could have shocked me but I was learning how willing he was to face the troubles and when he did they melted away in my hostility, of which I never enjoyed.

Yes... he was a good man... now... and how I loved him for it. Including the fact that I was the one who created that good in him... and now as I look at it, I had to be.

We'd slept on this Davenport together that I rested my back upon now, as I lay on these blankets on the floor before the fireplace … and… I _remember _walking in this door one hundred, seventy-four years ago… Seeing my people… seeing his people… and now that it was so much was quieter… if all the locks were secured, and the fireside lowly crackled… why **wouldn't** I wish to have some experimental time right here? Really? Why wouldn't I?

I thought of the possibilities... what would he do? I hope he'd be pleased and I kept smiling to myself at the thought of his welcoming gaze. Oh, yes, there was so much more to explore, especially now that we'd endured the worst of it. I thought of his kind face, of the smooth skin I'd touched. Of his secure embrace that held me with that sheltering warmth I adored. Barnabas never wanted to let me go when he did that and I faded into his arms. All was lavish in my union with him as I'd always longed for. He was proud of me and he had finally made me proud of him. I was opening my arms in anticipation of this renewal.

I had to giggle to myself… I wasn't sure if Mr. Barnabas Collins would be confused, surprised, or eager. I really had no idea. But I was curious. And I sighed…

Here it was that I'd been so disappointed and as Kitty, foolishly taken poison… but does anyone know what I was feeling or thinking at the time? What I'd been imagining in this room? What wild motions of love I'd entailed in my mind as I sat there waiting for what felt like forever? And surely, when one considers what I'd been through… I **HAD** been waiting forever… from one lifetime to the next… What a man… and a man one might not believe worth it… but he's always been to me.

After moving pieces of furniture with our two wonderful employees, I had this terrible feeling that from my various smiles and meaningful petting on the top of their hands… well… I had to wonder if they weren't driving off soon to something along the lines of… a house of ill repute… ? …or a theatre of lingerie damsels who danced around poles…? …or perhaps a certain movie-house in which… well, I'm sure you may be making up your own minds of where they went.

In Collinsport, there is a saloon of sorts, of course, we all know that… but perhaps I should be ashamed that I may have put ideas in their heads and led them elsewhere. What I would dearly love is if they'd only gone to the shed again for another game of Backgammon. Or they could have gone to see Pappa about some more portraits. His paintings have truly been coming along. More of our Sarah, especially. Yes, if they went to see him… That would relieve my heart.

Still, I had to enjoy the candlelight and the lack of any obnoxiously interrupting telephone to my thoughts. I stayed, with a bottle of chilled wine, resting on some cushions over blankets in front of the fire… and staring into it after I'd placed another log there. There were three now, resting cross angled over one another. "Three," I mused out loud, "like me."

I sighed… oh… how I'd always wanted_ just_ this. I sipped my wine and had a stack of three books I was tempted to flip through and just kept touching the covers of while I thought, and stared, and waited. Of course, one of these books was by John Cleland, published in 1748. I tended to leaf through it at times, but that was usually _all_ I needed. I do love the ending line: "The paths of Vice are sometimes strewed with roses, but then they are for ever infamous for many a thorn, for many a cankerworm: those of Virtue are strewed with roses purely, and those eternally unfading ones." If my old friend, Angelique had read this, _could_ read it, I'd hope it would make all the difference.

While reading I opened my slender robe from the heat, my sheen night dress exposed and rippling across my skin. It's silken features a comfort right now. But the fire brought me back to substantial thoughts. Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen… as the fire is so likely to waft that away within itself and I kept thinking… what will he do when he walks in that door, turns to his left and sees me awaiting him in this state lying down among quilts and cushions? What will he think? But what did it really matter until the time came? Until… _I did_… I wondered.

Soon enough, I heard the door open and his footsteps… I knew they could only be his and his alone.

"So…" he almost whispered, "awaiting me, my pet?"

_Ohhh..._ his confidence **had** come back. Yes... I was hoping it might. I'd been so vile in my destruction of his being, unleashing my contempt and the shame he'd done to our family so recently. I knew I had to do that, but now I was yearning to let go of that... and be... _taken_ by him; My dearest Barnabas Collins.

"Yes…" I answered softly.

You see. I wanted to be the lamb, this time. I was a little tired of doing so much work when it came to the dire necessities of love between him and I. In this moment… I was sleepy, which is perhaps why I'd somehow blinked awake… perhaps I'd been asleep, in fact… but my robe was removed, my night dress undone and I only noticed him now, almost naked and prepared.

Fluttering into my recognition I leaned back on the cushions I'd arranged for us to create this new ardour. He was down there with me, draped with the blankets as though wearing his own cape like coat over his shoulders and myself with barely a stitch on as well. It could be that I faded in and out of consciousness and he'd already discarded my clothing… or perhaps I'd removed them myself. Who can say? Wine can be a strong sedative.

Before the firelight, he wrapped the blankets around us and kissed me deeply and held the back of my neck and skull with a gentle clasp. I felt the weight of his chest and sternum in my hands, reached further up to caress his smooth shoulders… and finally… somehow, without my own aide… he brought himself into me and I responded as delicately as I could. (We know how difficult that inhalation can be at certain intervals, don't we ladies?)

It was _less_ fierce this time, but somehow as passionate as before, if not more so. I felt myself closing around him, trying to respond to his movements with my legs upraised, but he rested his hand down on my knee and insisted I stop.

"No… Josette, not this time, please…" he said, strongly, yet softly, "I want it to last… don't overwhelm me. Let us remain together as long as possible."

He stroked my hair and face and kissed me all over as he said these words… and I understood. Perhaps I'd been too voracious… and also, perhaps it made little difference when all was said and done? We **would**, if we were lucky, have _all_ the time in the world for this, and that was something I had not listened to. We'd been waiting too long and been too eager… Not that we blamed each other for that. It was such a long time to wait.

"Don't you know that I love you? Don't you know that I want you?" He asked, even then slowly thrusting himself into me, running his hand up my thigh and squeezing my hip.

"But… you **_are_ **having me… aren't you?" I queried, in motion, "As I am… having you?"

"What difference does that make?" He asked, still not changing his stance, and we continued to envelope each other, above and below. "I still love you… I still want you… I still adore you… and I want to _know_ that you know this," he whispered in kisses along my neck.

"Of course I know it, Barnabas Collins… of course… aren't you showing me?" I answered in my kissing returns. I felt him coursing through to me, creating a duration I welcomed and enveloped down below. His opening of me to him, his compounding efforts to bring us together... I wanted to spread my arms along the floor but I couldn't. I had to clasp the muscle of his shoulders... _strongly_.

"Then stop forcing my completion, Josette Dupres… stop overpowering me to cease all I want to show you. Let this love continue as long as it can. So much I want to explore you and so much I want you to explore me. We've been too forceful on one another. Can't we understand each other here… especially in this very room… as you've so chosen to do this? "

Our hands reached to find all the spots on us that went untouched, stretching over sides front torso and each other's backs. My fingers drifted along his skin, like rose petals I was feeling with my lips on his.

"Did I?" I asked between kisses, " I only thought it would be a blessing of romance, considering all the hostility that's taken place in this room."

"I understand," he said, and then began to throw himself into me all of a sudden so that for a few minutes, that was all there was, and I reacted in kind. My throat opened with thrills of animation as he continued to enter me and re-enter me. Trailing his fingers behind my legs, he went and rested his face at the center of my chest. I took his head in my hands there while he breathed so heavily.

"You weren't unmindful, Josette… didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"I've always wanted to make love to you in this room? To clean it of all the trouble and also because… I first saw you enter this house here… and how much I wanted you right then, when I saw you."

The rhythm of his love never ceased and I understood. Of course, what happiness and horror we'd shared here. Had I been sensitive to it or insensitive? Perhaps both. I didn't raise my legs, but I did bend my knees and rested my feet on his calves lower down. I wanted some further communication between us beyond the upper torso and our lips. Really… I **did** want us to have "knowledge" of each other completely. However… what I was coming to understand is that it would take a lifetime… _and what a lifetime_… what a pleasure and enjoyment to keep on… exploring. I had to tell him... I was _dying_ to tell him...

"When you call me that… When you call me, Josette… do you know what I feel?" I asked.

"Tell me." He breathily responded.

"My heart… my hands…" I answered.

"And… Kitty," he asked, not ceasing to torment my innards.

"My feet, my spine, my throat…" I answered, breathing and writhing.

"And… Maggie…?" he slowly asked, still not stopping his movements, his kisses, his caresses.

"My mind, my head, my knees… " I whispered… knowing these thing instantly in my search to explore myself.

"But… _that_ one… you know…" he kissed and throbbed and halted all movement suddenly, staring into my eyes, touching my face, "And… When I ask you… **_DuPres?"_**

And then… the tears came down… and at last I said, stroking his hair, and his neck, as he was raised higher above… looking down… "Myself… all of me… all of it, I feel you… and all of me… my dearest."

He exhaled from his withheld expectation, a kind of slow delight. A strange ecstasy.

"Somehow… I was sure of that, DuPres… and I won't force my name on yours… for that one is the beauty of all that you are… and you know that… my dearest love."

In this moment, to my strange discovery, I found I was a happily married woman.

* * *

_Please comment... with that particular phrase, if you like... that I'm almost positive it was my M-Rated pal... _

_Actually, what I mean is please comment if you're one of the lovely people who've been enjoying this or perhaps have something helpful to add about additions I could make, to say, room, clothing, or location details. Many of my author's notes encourage this because the nice people tend to be less outspoken, whereas the rude people I don't want to hear from._

_So if you're enjoying this I'd love to hear from you. _

_I don't care about popularity. I care about finding my people. Thank you very much. :)_


	18. Chapter 18: A Warm Night On Widows Hill

_As some may be aware "The Wedding Night" came from an urge to visualize these two married at last. I was **not** prepared for what I saw. And so, this new writing experience came into being from a one shot... to a set of bedroom vignettes to a post-marriage novel I never intended but now think is so wonderful I want to publish and sell it. And I believe doing so may solve marital troubles in others lives as it's done in ours._

_It struck me that through certain scenes these two characters were not only finally exploring each other, but beginning to bring their love into other areas of their home. In this way they could provide more sacred memories in order to heal the past. Association with bad experiences tend to keep most people away from almost anything: songs, certain individuals, choice of media, and certainly places._

_How Barnabas and Josette could embody their home with the love it required was to create new and better experiences, however intimate, into these zones. Couples do get a bit of thrill passing by certain areas they've made love in, not just the bedroom, of course. That's when I realised there was one place that needed to be cleansed in this way beyond all others. So, I would deeply appreciate some commentary on this chapter. Very curious if it's hit that mark. I find it quite profound._

_The previous chapter still gives ME the jitters. I never thought that much talking during "the act" would hold so much relevance. Still, I do re-read this one and felt it was important... and of course, she would *have* to dare him to do it. ;)_

* * *

Chapter 18: A Warm Night On Widows Hill

Tony Peterson and Carolyn Stoddard had been relaxing late one evening on a bench near Widow's Hill. The breeze was thin and this couple has been enjoying a bit of sensitive groping over and under their jackets. As one can imagine, the romantic tragedy of that place can bring a kind of terror that sparks certain yearnings to those in love. Of course, they settled in from holding hands, to making out, to certain second-base activities… until… as he dipped to kiss this blonde maiden of his already dazzled admiration and enjoyment, Mr. Peterson's eyes wandered toward the cliff and noticed movement, like two animals wrestling twenty feet from the edge. His lips came free due to his concerned stare in the distance.

"What is it, Tony?" Carolyn asked, almost out of breath, "what's stopping you?"

"I—think…" he raised himself back to sitting position and adjusted the lapels on his somewhat ruffled coat, "… there… is… someone over there…"

Carolyn sat up in turn and gasped at the sight. "Hmm, that's rather far away from where _we're_ sitting… but, even under blankets… I think I know _who…"_ Her voice trailed off in uncertain dismay.

"Meeee too," Tony Peterson responded, "and I'm not… sure… we… should… be…"

"Watching them?" Carolyn said, beginning to smile, "well, it won't cool **us** off to do so, that's for sure!"

"I, well," Tony uttered, "haven't they been married for a while now? You'd think the honeymoon age would have tempered down at this point."

"Not with those two," Carolyn started to giggle, "They've been waiting QUITE a while, so I've gathered."

"Mmm-hmmm," he speculated with a winsome grin, "you did belt out to have them married with no opposition at the time, didn't you?"

Carolyn chuckled, "I sure as hell did! My cousin Barnabas has been so lost he was making certain advances toward _me_ and that was more than enough to know he needed her. They were meant for each other and they've been confused in their past long enough... Although... for right now? I'm still tempted by a few ideas..."

Tony looked to Carolyn and shared her amusement, "Carolyn Stoddard. You certainly are sounding mischievous right now. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Likely," she answered, "but let's just_ think_ it. Besides, I'm sure they'd hear us creeping up if we were to play such a prank. AND I don't have a whoopee cushion stashed away in my pocket, do _you_?"

He stretched himself up and took the hand of his lady fair, "They must be out here for more than it being a warm night. Best leave them to it."

And, of course, Tony Peterson was correct.

* * *

The evening had started, much the same as most. David's studies had long concluded, and dining had commenced. Drinks before the fire at Collinwood had gathered a few of us to talk of old times… some bad memories, but more good ones that had been happening, which was such a comfort.

Barnabas and I slowly roamed back home to The Old House, and we caught a glimpse of Willie Loomis walking hand in hand with his sweetheart through the woods. They were so fetching, and clearing the air of those places that had been plagued with sacrilege and savage deeds. His final understanding of love, I thought, watching the two walking through the brush and trees was an amazing accomplishment I could only put to him.

"Well," said my Mr. Collins, "that is a sight. It's very warm tonight, indeed. Good to see him calming down."

"Or rather," I added, "getting worked up?"

We continued into the house. He closed the door and I offered my arm for him to take. The warmth of his gaze stirred my soul with wonder. Now I have him... I do... at last. We strolled in together, the hearth already aglow and I thought of that night together on the floor in front of it. How precious and adoring he had been toward my body, my names, my soul. As we sat ourselves down upon the davenport, I expected us to simply hold close, and I to rest my head upon his shoulder. It started out that way, and he stroked my head. But something in that first kiss, when I rolled my head on his shoulder to face him, lit a thrill of adventure and the next thing I knew, it had turned passionate. I wrapped my arms around his neck and shoulders as we went on and felt his hands massage the top most sides of my ribs just below my arms. It only made matters worse as I thought mad things.

"Somewhere else needs to be cleansed," I breathed as our lips parted.

"Where, my dearest?" his kind voice breathing over my cheeks.

"Would you allow me my choice?"

"Anything, anything at all for you," he answered, stroking my face and hair.

"A bad place, a tragic edge by the sea," I said.

He seemed to stop breathing as he stared at me. An indefinable look crossed his face, "Maggie Evans," he finally said, "You can't mean that."

"Why not," I ventured, staring him down, "we've already kissed there."

His hands rested on my shoulders and he brought his chin in, looking up at me, "I don't want to disappoint you… but I don't exactly share your enthusiasm for it. Besides, it's dangerous."

"For us as we are now?" I asked, lowly.

"That's a lot to ask," he answered, just as low.

"You forget, _mon démon,_ **I'm** the one who's asking. And it's a lot for me to brave asking."

"You've always been brave, my dearest."

"And you haven't?" I kissed him, tenderly.

"One doesn't wish to boast," he sighed with a smile.

I took his head in my hands, resting two fingers around both of his ears, "I _dare_ you, Barnabas Collins. I _dare_ you to make love with me on Widow's Hill."

To this, I saw a blink, with some sparkle of anticipation. Then he threw a fervent kiss into me as his answer.

* * *

Of course I wasn't about to ask anyone to retrieve the blankets we'd need, nor was I going to ask him to carry them there, but I managed well enough in my determination. He walked smoothly, cane in one hand and a small lantern in the other as he strode, hardly a frolic, but I amused myself with the idea of him as a boy doing so. I didn't want to go too close to the edge, but I walked to a spot where I'd held consultation with myself over all these events many times. He didn't know this. My coming here at any time after everything was sure to lace his thoughts with far too much anxiety.

The sea wind, the lapping waves below this cliff brought more flurries of longing for him as I spread the blankets out. He stood there like a gentle guard over my preparations, sometimes watching me, sometimes out into the dark night over the ocean, and often when I looked up, there was that pained sourness I came to both adore and be uneasy about in his expression. I took the lantern and placed it nearby between two stones.

"Come down, now," I offered, sitting sideways, knees bent and lifting my hand, "don't be afraid."

He took my hand, sloped down his cane with the other and kneeled before me, as though at the altar of something precious. "If I put this place out of my mind, perhaps all will be well."

"That's not what I want," I told him, "it has to be here. **We** have to be here. Or we won't have learned a thing."

A soft half-lidded glow came from his eyes. A full moon made this obvious as the cloud before it drifted away. (Hearing a canine howl I had to repress a simper in thinking of the wolf whose blood I'd taken many nights ago. I hoped, in spirit, he was at peace somewhere, too.)

"How do you propose we uncover ourselves here, my darling? Someone could come by at any moment."

"I know," I marvelled, raising an eyebrow, "doesn't that excite you?"

"If _you're_ here to… protect me," he smiled.

"As I did by your sick bed ages ago?" I returned.

"Do you want me to be gentle?" he breathed, closing in for my lips.

"Yes," I exhaled, kissing him, "and… no."

It seemed quick at the time, but we were cautious. No need to pop off buttons and lose them in the grass. These starlit heavens knew at least one sock would go astray. We heartily removed each other's clothing between the blankets. When I removed his shirt and beheld his smooth shoulders I didn't want to wait. We kissed between articles undone, and he reached down between my legs to easily discover just how much my heart craved him then.

As the last piece was taken off and all we had between us and the air were the bedclothes I'd brought, we lay facing each other, me on my right side and he on his left. He stroked me along, from my ribs to my hips and down behind my leg, then began the process again and again, making me shiver. I took his neck, rested my thumbs along his jaw and tasted his lips on mine as he slunk his hand down again, but this time lifted my leg higher up and brought it over his hip. The agonizing fusion began as I brought my leg almost behind him, our parts joining slowly, and then at last, with a certainty most profound, we were as one again.

As the inhalations came from us of this change, our sidelong unity bringing warmth and breadth to our love on this legendary ground becoming fable, I stroked his ribs with the tips of my fingers. When I wasn't on his lips, I took his neck and his chest close to me, inhaling his cherished scent and that mixture between the two of us. I found myself asking, would a child ever come of our union and would it have the scent of that mixture between us? That would be the request between the sexual, the sacred, and the blend of its exquisite purpose, wouldn't it?

I moved to rise above him and he turned on his back to help this as we inhaled the salty air, cooler here, of course, than at home, but still a good night for it all which was dearly needed on this very spot. We pressed together, back and forth and I thought of how much desire I'd diminished when I was so fearful and lost my way here long ago. But it had all come back to me again, this inner devoir to fasten myself to him as I was doing now. Hips colliding, folds opening, destiny entrapping us in assenting flower.

Running my hands along his chest, I kissed and yes, nibbled and bit, and he responded, his subtle groans mixing with the oceans echo, splashing on the rocks below… rocks I'd known too intimately. Now, at last, I knew _him_ intimately instead. I met his lips and thanked all between worlds of spirit and soul for allowing this to finally happen.

I glided myself above him, breathing in, wrists touching the sides of his chest as I folded my hands down, resting on the blankets. He reached his hands up my back. I rested my knees on either side of his stomach. I felt his hands course up between my scapulae, then wrap the tops of my shoulders in his fingers and press me down, bringing us closer together again and again, and the inhalations became marked with more severity. That fluttery sensation arrested my innards and raced along my limbs.

The fear of those days, the pain of what happened was slowly replaced with this enactment of desire. I leant down now, bringing my arms around him and veering myself down, stroked his face with my own and kissed him deeply, tongues touching lightly. His arms around me, feeling him within me, we writhed upon each other in both sweet need and satisfaction. The waves collided as though in time with how we did, and I listened to the gulls make that repetitive call that once struck me as wild chatter, but all I heard in it now was laughter.

At last we rolled and he was astride me, darkly smiling, inly moaning, we continued blissfully, him pressing his mouth along my shoulders, my throat, my torso, I grabbing his neck to welcome this and feeling about his leg with my ankle. Our breathing shuddered. I looked to the stars, to the moon, to the night, lustily, lovingly, gratefully. At last, through two lives of disappointment, and another of some torment, I was finally home and with him.

We completed each other in a rapture divine and shaky. My mouth beamed in a smile. He halted, caressing me around the ear and speaking softly, "I understand now… a new experience, a new memory to wipe out the old and make this place beautiful… like you… Josette."


	19. Chapter 19: A Delicate Splendour

_This is a post-coital scene, with conversation explaining how our bride contains so much of her history in her mind._

_As much reincarnation research provides, most children who experience it, tend to have flashes which drift away from them as they reach maturity. With adults going through regression therapy it's different. The flashes come and if they investigate to unlock them, reaching out to familiar settings and people, the other lives are often maintained and have relevance during their current life._

_A good thing to keep in mind here with Maggie is that the lives as Kitty Soames and Josette Dupres are inherently linked with hers. She contains memories in the same way that John Sullivan's memories are both retained and altered, much like a remix of the same life, but separate time lines. John Sullivan is the protagonist from the film "Frequency" that was released in 2000. In Sullivan's life he finds a way to communicate with a younger version of his deceased father and in doing so alters the past several times. Maggie would retain the life of Kitty Soames who returned in 1795 as Josette Dupres in a new replay of similar events as the original Josette and so she talks about her experience somewhat here._

_There have been many times when I listen to the podfic of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" and I give my adopted characters the credit for their words. I'll say, "Go, Pop!" or "Go, Liz!" or "Good job!" to whatever character, bonus or Dark Shadows I've managed to help and give a fun line to. But rarely ever Barnabas. In this chapter, when his grin widens as he discusses writing down the details of the love he and his bride share and how much glory he finally enjoys with her, I just have to say it: "Go, Barnabas!" Hee, hee, hee... you lovely, lovely old man._

* * *

Chapter 19: A Delicate Splendour

I was above her, sated and the waves crashed beside us. Being over her, my hands gripping her shoulders, I was enervated to a certain degree. The beauty of all that was... all that there is to my Josette in this Maggie was enveloping me so forcefully, so beautifully in this calm we'd found to stabilize ourselves through all our yearning and all of our pain. The humid air surrounding us among these blankets she'd placed, insisting we existed in our love here. I couldn't blame her. She'd showed me the allurement of what this meant now. It was beautiful here and I would hardly consider shame now.

She was wise to make us do this and I could not worry about others peeping toward us in their curiosity. After all... here I am writing it down. If only you could witness the wide grin on my face as I do so. My honours as a wedded man surpass any abashed instincts I have. I knew too much was seen and heard in this day and age. Besides, it's not as though we all had our secrets in the time my Josette and I lived before. There were indiscretions in that day and age... but _nothing_ like what I wanted to pursue with her... _nothing._ Those were many and sundry of a repellent nature, but what we had was sacred. To spread our ardour over the grounds of Collinwood was a blessing to prize and take no shame in admitting to. _Yes... wouldn't it be?_

Ohh... she'd been shy in kissing me once... but for this she was not shy anymore. Beautiful girl... _luxuriously beautiful..._

* * *

The night we explored each other on Widows Hill and she'd looked beyond my face to smile into the stars beyond I had to feel my way to her neck and ask at her ear, "Did you enjoy this... what we've just done?"

She exhaled with a throaty yearning and an inhale, "Of course I did... that was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?"

I'd let myself go but I still had a throbbing pain and showed it to her in response to this question. I was still within her strongly, and in displaying my continuance we both drowned in stretching our union to further reaches. Once finding the utmost, this sensation is beyond overwhelming. She leant her head back, her neck arcing forward and I grasped it in my mouth. Suckling at her tender flesh, knowing I'd be lost soon and unable to continue throughout her naked viscera, as much as I adored exploring her there. A man can only go so far.

We parted in a calamitous exhale.

But how did we return home in this exposure between us?

We grabbed what we could, realigning what we'd worn before we came here. There was a shivering of dressing each other just as we'd undressed ourselves, an exhilaration of getting back to the house that we both shared somehow.

"No," she expressed, buttoning me half way, "let's not worry about what we've lost here, but only of what we've gained..."

"Truly, Josette?" I requested in these facets of touching kisses and caresses, wanting to unveil her again as she'd shown me beneath these blankets.

"Stop that," she breathed, "there is far more in tonight than you ever wondered... my beloved."

"Don't tell me," I ventured, "that I've finished myself into you just to want more?"

"That's always been the case," she smiled, beautifully and I grabbed her neck, her head, the warmth of her mouth in this shivery, glistening passion of previous experience.

"Not more..." I begged, but still wanting and wanting without struggle, "Tell me, or tell me not... more?"

"Sooo much more, my darling."

It was the most mesmerizing agony to reach The Old House again... and now that I write down these details, shouldn't I call it New? Perhaps Anew? For wasn't it, though? I watched her skirt rippling in the warm breeze as she was ahead of me again, or when beside me, I'd look down and observe, craving those ankles that had once reached where I could kiss them beside my neck and kiss them with a loving admiration of all she could do to excite my will on her. I thought of that as our livened steps passed over the dried filaments of tall grass... to have her legs around me, to kiss the inner portion of her thighs, her calves, the collective union between her legs and womanhood. _Yes._ This area has been both soothing and a thrill of pleasure to her when I massaged it, notably on both sides at once. Smooth motions of our love came from it, of course, for her release of inner nectar was kindled to pour out from how I touched her.

With these thoughts burdening me I nearly tripped but she caught me, "Barnabas? Are you all right?"

"With you," I made no pause to assert, "never. I am either thrown into total fulfillment with your heart pressed to mine or... finding my desires trifled with when we are apart."

She stood agape for a split second and then grabbed my arm as we raced on. But why race? Why not fall to the ground and repeat this evenings process all over again? Ah, we'd left the blankets behind on Widows Hill. Perhaps someone had come upon them already and wondered. I smiled at this thought.

The door swung open and shut by Josette's hand and all we saw were the stairs until Willie stood by the side, "Barnabas, Ah got's some news about-"

"Not now, dear heart," my Maggie called out as we trod up and away.

We heard a snicker fade into the distance and then a yell, "You two are CRAZY!"

As far away as we were, we laughed with him. Crazy in love, yes... Mr. Willie Loomis was undeniably correct in this.

A shocking display of rosy cheeks and breathy stirs met me when I turned from closing her door. I could never, _never_ prepare myself in time.

"I don't want you to," she assured me, again that oddity of hearing my thought, "I simply want to be with you... here," Josette unfolded her hand toward her bed.

I stepped toward her in earnest curiousity, "clothed... or... unclothed?"

All our disarray was obvious as we stood there in this moment.

"Unclothed, of course," she entreated, unraveling what few buttons had been fastened on me before we left the hill.

I bent down and brought her long skirt up over her head. She slunk her arms upward for I to remove this garment and there she was. Untouched and alive as when her mother had released her from the chasm of her womb. And knowing she had had three, I wondered who this mother could be, and if like her father, she too was always that reincarnation of the previous. What a gift to me if that be so; a collective family unit of souls for one daughter striving to find me. Did I deserve it? Well, this fair skinned, opalescent bride believed that I was. And her soul was the soul of all my yearning heart.

In my half-closed lids of these thoughts she'd removed the desultory threads of my own clothing and we stood enraptured with a passion that was already spent but still thriving. Then my Maggie stepped backward, arms outstretched... inviting and we laid down together, gliding along the sheets. She lifted her head and I slipped her hair up over the pillows. There we held each other, as touching and tender as ever before.

* * *

I have wondered in my thoughts of this Josette, and how she manages to keep herself so well put together. So this night, when even our passion hadn't tired us into slumber, I asked her.

"I suppose," she began, slowly, lying upon her back, "it's a little like when an amnesia patient remembers themselves. And… it helps, that all the surroundings are the same, though seen in a different light, with separate circumstances…" and then she gave out a trickle of little gasps and moans.

You see, as she spoke, I'd been exploring her, tracing my fingers along her neck, then down her arms, along her ribs, kissing her left side in areas I'm not sure how to place. I'd been discovering she had some finer responses to all this _after_ the act. And this act of ours in the place of her destruction before being reborn to me two-fold brought even deeper frenzy inside the both of us. She moaned so happily, so beautifully, which both excited me and calmed me somehow.

"And so," I said, just as slowly, as I pressed my lips along her arm repeatedly, "you know… all about this place… and about… yourself…"

"Yes," she breathed strangely, still responding to my kisses as they reached the palm and fingers of her hand, "but… of course… oh… never… like this…"

I felt down and groped for her leg, but she made a small protest, "No, Barnabas, stay gentle, not so…"

"Of course," I answered, and proceeded, moving myself lower on her bed, to stroke her along her thigh and her knee. I watched my hand as it weaved along her delicate flesh, opening my mouth to envelope that flesh with my adoration. Continuing then along her ankle and impressed at a velveteen quality, as I gently moved along her skin. Then I came back up, and up, onward upon her stomach, staring all the while at any lovely contour and appreciating each one.

"Would it have been like this," I asked, feeling her along her bosom, then her collarbone, "back then?"

"Not sure," she said, and then gave out a light gasp, "I can't imagine it having been any… better, but we've been through so much, you and I. Perhaps that would be the reason this has created so much more passion than would have happened when I was on my own... when I wanted you to take me that night in my room almost two centuries ago, my… dearest."

My fingers glided up her neck and gently pressed her head to face mine. She turned her body on its right to reach for me as well. Feeling her lips on mine, a desire began to resurge down my vitals, but nothing I was intent to make good on. This kiss, sweet and long, was where we stayed for a sensuous minute or two.

When our lips parted, she exhaled, "So hard to believe sometimes, but, that's the reason it's all so beautiful, I suppose."

"There's too much to say," I whispered, and smiled, "too much to share, too many old memories to unlock," I hooked my arm under hers as we faced each other, and ran my fingers along her back as she continued to inhale, sometimes sharply, sometimes softly. Perhaps many women might react this way to tender caresses after the main ordeal was over, but all that mattered to me was that _She_ did. I was beginning to see how untouched these moments are… as I reached up her back and neck, my hand searching behind her skull and running my fingernails along it, up through her chestnut hair. Again, she closed her eyes and echoed sounds of pleasure.

"And… too many… new memories… to create…" she intoned, opening her eyes. The fire from the hearth reflected in them, but not a harsh light, a precious glow, something to marvel me more about her beauty and soul. Ah, this key distinction, _soul…_ I wrapped my left arm around her and lifted her torso to topple mine in a slight cross angle. We held each other close, gazing at each other, simply, wistfully, and I found myself reaching to stroke her hair. Something in this look, this gaze, spoke words that had no definition, something infinite, dear and true. An indication of all that we had been, were now, and could be in the future.

She'd had her hand on my shoulder, then worked it to my face, tracing along my cheekbones, chin and sliding her thumb over my lips, giving me pause for a tiny smile. Then she took a spell to rest her ear on my chest and the hand that had been stroking her head, took this and held her close to my heart.

I listened closely, beyond the simmering fire and to the ocean waves. Those waves, from here to her island birthright, or the sea that she sailed over from her second incarnation. They were all one body of water in a way, weren't they? And that heat in Martinique, so intense, I felt the need to ask, as I'd likely asked before, "Josette?"

"Yes, my dearest," she whispered.

"Do you feel… cold here? In this climate?"

She brought her head up to rest her chin on my ribs, "I have been cold, but not anymore, not since I found my way back… to you."

* * *

_As I've re-read this segment, that's touched me in many ways, there is a main highlight I'd like to point out. It's when Barnabas describes certain physical gestures:_

"Then she took a spell to rest her ear on my chest and the hand that had been stroking her head, took this and held her close to my heart."

_Something in that preciousness and his very deep gratitude for it goes strait down my core._

_In writing my own material, I've had lovers as such but never quite in this extreme desire, need or satisfaction. It's a much younger love I've worked on. This one, with almost two centuries of longing, has had a profound effect on me. To see the possibilities of what it could be like if it turned out is beyond anything I've ever experienced before in any media I've imbibed. I'm hoping someday to encounter others of like mind who feel the same way about it._

_Also, I found this a unique interlude. I have my doubts of post-coital moments ever being described like this in other "adult" material._

_As this goes, I say again, "Go, Barnabas Collins!" I have never used you as a punching bag to relieve my own catharsis, and I never will. :)_


	20. Chapter 20: Willie TP's Collinwood

_I realise that the contraception bit is a little awkward (isn't it always?), but I figure someone on this estate ought to be promoting safe-sex. It might as well be provided by our Mystery Woman. And sheesh, can anyone actually IMAGINE Mr. Loomis with a kid? Certainly gives ME the Willies... :S_

_I'd been wanting to include this in the radio drama (cleansed of M-rated material, of course) but knew it would take some time to reach this scene. I wanted it at least in some form out of my system so I had a number of hard ciders one night and got it over with. My own intoxication was likely why it got so repetitive. And with the lyrics, I rather enjoy the idea of The Partridge Family blending with The Collins Family. (We'll see if I'm allowed to include them in the print version.)_

_Again, this is from Maggie/Josette's perspective as I haven't been able to bring myself to speaking/writing from Mr. Loomis'. I know there are many fans of the Maggie/Willie pairing and to appease them and myself, I try and keep them rather close and spending time together in a type of "slumber party" fashion._

* * *

Chapter 20: Willie Toilet Papers Collinwood

_Hello world, here's a song that we're singin'  
Come on, get happy  
A whole lotta lovin' is what we'll be bringin'  
We'll make you happy_

_We had a dream we'd go travelin' together  
And spread a little lovin' if we'll keep movin' on  
Somethin' always happens whenever we're together  
We get a happy feelin' when we're singin' a song_

_Travelin' along, there's a song that we're singin'  
Come on, get happy  
A whole lotta lovin' is what we'll be bringin'  
We'll make you happy  
We'll make you happy  
We'll make you happy_

When our Mr. Loomis had something to say earlier on, it was more to discuss with me really, than with Barnabas. But my husband and I were in some bliss of continuing our passion upstairs after the rapture of Widows Hill. Those widows _do_ sound as if they've stopped wailing and are likely giggling instead. Still, Willie had me curious and I ventured to his room the next day. The plumbing issues of The Old House, our home, could wait. Willie's concerns were far more important.

Of course, this tale is too much of a delight to let pass without revealing certain shreds of it. When Willie told me about it, he _did _say it with his usual aplomb I still have a hard time translating, but for some reason, every detail was explained as we shared secretive laughs over glasses of port and some candy bars. You see, there is just something about sex tales that we feel the need to express with a friend. And frankly, in _this_ town and on _this_ estate, we all need to make certain vents to our frustration and that includes the _good_ things.

Of course, the girl we can't give a name to right now, had come to express her loneliness and the bad things that had happened to her recently at her old place of employment. And was Mr. Loomis _ever_ concerned. I'm sure he was more than willing to give a fist in the face to the man who'd made her job so troubling. However, I did tell him, that our home was so huge, we would gladly allow her admittance. It would beat all to see her out of that boarding house and not only that, but I could _finally_ get Willie to exchange his shabby room to something at least a little grander. And what might be grander than Barnabas's old bedroom? My husband and I have found it almost implausible to cleanse those quarters with our love. There was simply too much hurt in that place; especially with my **other **husband haunting it so much. I leave it to Willie Loomis and his own sweet lady to do that job for us. But that's not what _this_ story is about.

It was when they went for that first walk together, and had passed all the various places where he'd dug unnecessary graves, and people tied to trees, etcetera, etcetera, you get the idea. But as the afternoon settled, they came back and saw the brown paper bags she'd left beside the door of the Old House. Mr. Loomis had asked what they were. And she pleasantly showed him.

He professed that perhaps we might need all that toilet paper in her bag for the old outhouse some of us still bother to use, usually in emergencies. But she shook her head, "No, no, Willem," for some reason, that's what she prefers to call him, "this is for another plan I had in mind."

"What did ya have in mind?" he asked, almost coyly.

"Well…" she smiled slowly, "you and I are mischievous people, of course,"

"I know," he responded, "ya told me."

"So I thought we might… _toilet paper_ Collinwood."

"What?" he laughed, "_This_ place?"

"No, no," she rejoined, "I wouldn't even _know_ how to climb these columns. I meant the main house."

"Oh?" He smiled with a hand-folding surprise, "ya really mean that?"

"I thought it might help," she answered, slyly "we need a little mischief that isn't so terrible, don't we?"

Willie laughed in disbelief, "How did ya ever come to know me so well?"

"Oh," she said, "you and I have known each other before."

…

"Oh, no!" I chuckled, "and that was _just_ the start?"

"Yeh, Maggie, it was… are ya sure ya want to know the rest?"

"You can't leave it down to that, Willie Loomis," I told him, sipping the necessary port I'd need to hear it all in less embarrassment, "I didn't encourage this for _nothing_. If you want to tell me, I'm more than willing to hear it."

And so he continued…

…

From sound it, the more they carried the bags and thought over this opportunity, the faster their steps beckoned them onward to Collinwood. Those two didn't even bother with the door knocker. The ease of tension left the latch as open as ever in the stately abode. However, they did make an effort to be sure the door was closed as it has this habit of swinging open again if one doesn't have focus enough to shut it.

Shuffling up the stairs with this low-level, though still devious, plot in mind, I think Mrs. Johnson came out with some curious wonderings that they ignored and of course she just shrugged. We all _know_ that Mrs. Johnson is ready to expect any oddities passing through the doors. I'm not surprised she didn't pursue those two.

They raced up and through to a room where they could reach the roof of that house. And so they found a window, climbed out of it and up to the roof, bags in hand, ripped off the cellophane wrapping and proceeded to fling rolls of toilet paper all about the outside walls of what paupers what might call a palace but _we_ all call Home.

"That might have been a waste, Willie!" I commented, "One roll going down would likely have half of it on the ground unused."

"Ah, no," he told me, "we spun half a roll in our hand so we had more to drop everywhere."

I laughed, "Good job!"

"Well it was her idea."

With all the stomping and laughing on the roof a window opened and Roger called out, "What on earth _are_ all these shenanigans?"

At this point he saw the tissue flowing effusively and laughed himself into approval, "Oh, go ahead, Mr. Loomis! Have your fun! We'll have it cleaned by someone. Why _else_ have all this money?"

"Thank you, Mr. Collins!" called out our Lady of Love.

And then David climbed out the window and was brought up over a gable to join in the festivities. The three of them had the time of their lives with 42 rolls of cheap toilet paper cascading all over the focal point of this estate, wondering what might happen if Elizabeth Stoddard rolled back in from her trip to England at that moment. And we all know whether that happened or not. (Ahem!)

At some point, our Willie was getting a bit warm for this damsel who had managed to touch his playful heart so dearly. David was seen carefully back through the same window as Roger caught him. Roger asked them if they'd like to share a drink with him. They declined, and Roger, _knowing_ what they might be up to next, accepted their answer and made good to get his son downstairs for some distraction, the better to dissuade a listening ear.

Of course, who needs blankets with this kind of excitement? They managed to kiss passionately while they removed their clothing and even _then_ he just had to fondle her upper torso, to which she made _no_ resistance but breathed excitedly. She told him, "It's been such a hard life for us, Willem… let's change that."

"Really?" he exhaled, excitedly kissing her, grabbing the areas all about her chest, her thighs and her hips. (He only told me that when I pursued my interest on it.)

"Absolutely," she said, "unless there was something you wanted to do first?"

"Huh! I _know_ there is," he asserted, removing more articles of clothing as she removed his, "I want you to rest on your stomach."

"Why?" she breathed, continuing to kiss him.

"Because… I knew… it was _you…_"

"Me? Who did what?" she asked, as if she didn't know.

"I'll show yeh," he answered, helping to turn her about on her front side to the toilet papered roof and proceeding to kiss her bare back… and then suckling it and biting hard as he could in remembrance of what she'd done for him, in the same areas on _her_ that he remembered on himself. And did she whine and try to repress groans of excitement in this sensual awakening? She'd **have **to do. He described her scraping the roof tiles in agony until a nail broke… to which he kissed it as lovingly as he could and she twirled face up.

...

"Oh no," I asked in concern, "did you have any, well, you know…"

"Well, Maggie," he answered, "she _does_ have a history of medicine," then he reflected bemused and looked at me, "well, don't you and him do that, too?"

"No," I answered, "for some reason in our immortal state we don't need it, but I'm still going to be worried about you two."

"Oh," he said, understanding, "I get'cha, I get'cha, but yes, she definitely had a few of _those_ stashed away in her pockets."

"Oh?" I asked, intrigued, "How many, Willie?"

"Erm... Six, I think," he admitted.

I almost screamed, "_Six?_ What was she expecting? That's a lot to stow away on this kind of a date!"

He laughed, pressing his face into his hands, "Well, I think it was just some, some…"

"Over compensation?" I added, helpfully, draining more port from the bottle into his glass. He sitting on his bed as I sat on the floor. I finished this and he turned in the glass and tipped it to his lips. I could see he was trying not to chortle back into this liquid. Willie was already over excited confessing all this to me.

"Yep! Anyway… is this too much, Maggie?"

"No! Go on… what happened?"

"Ah," he laughed, embarrassingly, "well, she put it on,"

"She'd have to," I reasoned.

"Oh and when…" he stalled.

"When what? Don't leave me in suspense, Willie. What did it feel like?"

Willie Loomis stared into my eyes, simpered, and put his glass on the floor. He collapsed on his bed as the springs shook, and he said, "Warm… it felt… _she_ felt… warm…"

I had to let out a happy sigh, "Oh, Willie, _warm_? Don't you know how wonderful… how poetic that sounds?"

"Never thought I had it in me, huh?" he asked, turning his head toward me.

"Yes, I did, Willie," I marvelled, "what happened? How did you not roll off that roof together and break your necks?"

"Oh," he awoke, blinking, "that was easy, ya see our feet were against one of the chimneys."

"What?" I asked, incredulous.

"Oh, well her feet were against that chimney and I was happy to have it there." Willie reached his arm down to fish for his glass and picked it up with agility in telling the tale as he sipped more.

"Why?" I asked.

"Well… how else do you think I…" he faltered.

"What?" I wondered in anticipation.

"Threw myself… into… her…" he finally stated with an expanded exhale of breath.

"Oh!" I almost panted, "Oh… oh, my…"

"Didn't think you'd hear that from _me_, eh?" he asked.

"Well," I wavered, "I'd _hoped_ to."

"Really?" he questioned, in disbelief, resting his head on his elbow facing me from his bed.

"Oh, of course, Willie… come on now…" I said, reaching my arm out, "don't you understand?" he took my hand, "That we want you to be happy, too?"

"Oh…" he answered in perplexed bemusement, "I wanted ta think so, but… yeh, know…"

"Willie Loomis," I affirmed, "Please… _you_ know this… you _know_ we want this kind of thing… AND to hear about it."

He let go of my hand, "Well, then I can tell ya… it ended more… b'...beautifully than I could have ever told ya."

"Oh?" I dared to ask.

"Yes… I… well…"

"Don't be shy _NOW_, Willie! You have me rolling on your bedroom floor already!"

He brought himself to a sitting position on his bed, clasped his own hands and bent his head down in that usual laughter that was so appropriate for him, "Oh… I know, Maggie, I know… and I'd so often wished this kind of thing... between us…"

"I understand... but, you know, you have _her_ now… so…"

"Yes, yes," he answered, still laughing, with head down. "I threw myself into her… because… because…"

"She wanted you to?" I asked.

"Yeah," he finally admitted, "and like I said… it was… warm… and I was… I dunno…"

"Sated? Satisfied?" I asked.

"Oh… nooo," he answered, "I wanted her even more then. I… I just couldn't get enough a'her then."

"Oh?" I asked, "what did you do?"

"I kept going… a'course," he answered, in an exasperated heave, " and I… I … I kissed her everywhere that I could. I… wanted her all over… her stomach, her legs, he arms, her lips, her face… I just… suddenly… wanted it all…"

"And your foot?" I wondered to him.

"Ah," he giggled, "my foot did overtime, I'm sure… I needed those bricks… to _get to her_… _further_…"

There was a long silence…

I shifted my knee up, my foot flat on the floor, put my wrists on my knee and rest my cheek there staring at his more blissful repose.

"Oh," I finally asked, "Willie, that's beautiful… why are you stopping now?"

"Well," he finally said, falling back on his bed with a spring-back thud, "I don't know how to tell ya the rest."

"How you…" I dared.

"Well… _drove_ myself inta her?"

I laughed, relentlessly, "Yes! Tell me… how did you accomplish that, Willie?"

"Well," he laughed, "we _did_ have our feet against that chimney… so… ya know… I used it."

"Oh?" I asked, "you used your feet against the chimney for leverage?"

He laughed, "Yeh, I did and yeh know what she did when kissed me then?"

"I won't even guess," I answered, "_you_ tell me."

"She took her tongue and licked the roof of my mouth…" he said, breathing out dreamily.

"Oh," I whispered, "well… I… well… how did that feel?"

"Oh… Josette Dupres… you _know_ how that feels, don't cha?"

And that's when I knew… Willie Loomis finally understood, through the gift of love, who I really was.

"Thank you, Willie Loomis." I said.

"For what," he asked.

"For calling me that, finally."

"Ah… Josette…" he offered, now intoxicated "how couldn't I_?"_

"Willie," I told him, reaching for his hand again, and him, lying on his bed, accepting mine, "do you love her?"

He chuckled in that usual way he had, "Oh, Josette Dupres, how could I not love her? I want her now, even as I hold your hand. I want _her_… I want her to lay with me here. But you…. You… Josette Dupres… ya've helped to make this all possible… tell me… Maggie… will you help us? Will you always be our friend?"

I had to give a whispering echo of tears, I was too happy to shed more than that. "Willie Loomis," I resolved, "_that_ girl is moving _into_ this house!"

Willie Loomis laughed happily, taking his hand away, and crossing both hands over his chest, "I knew it… I _knew_ it… ya've always known us… ya've always known us_ all_… and I will happily take that other bedroom… if that's what ya want." He looked at the ceiling in retrospect of that incident he had with his lady love on the rooftop of Collinwood.

"Of course," I prompted, "I _want_ you to change rooms, Willie… but… did you… did you two… complete each other than night?"

Willie Loomis turned his head to his right to face me, "Margaret Josette Dupres, _ye' know_… _we did_… in more ecstasy than I ever understanded in all my life." Then he shifted himself to rest on his side to face me, "Josette Dupres, don't you know you've changed us all, _and_ me, with all this happiness now?"

"No," I told him, reaching to him on my knees, "it's not just _me_ that's changed this place… it's _you_, and your strong heart… Willie Loomis… that have changed us all." Then I stroked his hair and kissed him on the cheek.


	21. Chapter 21: Tony's Proposal (To Carolyn)

_I'm not sure why this novel came into being. I think it was to keep me focused on my end goal result for "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". (And a gift from Barnabas &amp; Josette to save my marriage.) I don't have a ton of people to discuss it with, but thankfully I do have a few people now and I do want it to be both my venture and yours. There are things I want to see, but if there is anything you'd like me to add, I'm happy to hear it.(Although I do intend to stop canon-story flow after The Leviathans. No 1970's BIG HAIR! YUCK!)_

_And yes, I do believe 100 episodes of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" won't be so hard a year or two down the road. As I've been told it's like the soap opera all over again but with a new twist. And my Aunt has done performances on the radio that are over 300 episodes, so... I know it can be done. I'm hoping this scene Carolyn remembers will be in an episode._

_What I find fascinating is many writers and readers are becoming more and more touched by Tony &amp; Carolyn b/c of its potential and not seeing it done before or not much. To me where I interrupted Dark Shadows it was obvious. I watched an episode looking for another detail and it was the one where Carolyn was so upset what with Tony being all weird via Cassandra and he was so upset, too. And I almost screamed, "Okay, you two, okay! I'm on it! I'll make it right!"_

Dedicated to... Osheen Nevoy: Keeper of the Torch for Bill Malloy!

(And I HIGHLY recommend the Vanessa Carlton song at the end from her album "Rabbits on The Run". It's got that 1960's vibe.)

* * *

Chapter 21: Tony's Proposal

The two Carolyn's were wrapping up their meeting. These two, of course were Miss Carolyn Stoddard and Mrs. Carolyn Muir. They were often amused how this could confuse some people, but as like two people with the same first name, they never were confused by it. They simply knew from the context of any sentence which one of them was meant when someone spoke to them.

The publishing business they put together hadn't thrived... yet, but it certainly was bringing in a decent sense of accomplishment from the both of them. The best seller so far was the one that the ghost of Captain Gregg and the ghost of Bill Malloy had told together by combining their tales of sea and shore. It had turned out rather short as the two men had the note-taking women in stitches with all their salty-dog appeal.

At first Captain Gregg was telling the tale and explaining what Bill Malloy had to say about it until Bill finally remembered just how it worked that Captain Gregg created a corporeal and audible representation of his ghostly form. Finally, Bill Malloy was seen again in Collinsport and beyond after such a long absence.

"As the torrents fall among the sails, tossed our vessel through the frosty gales..." breezed ol' Bill in an intoxicated swing of words made in a slight slur with the libation of Madeira the Captain always seemed to have on hand.

"Aye!" Captain Gregg pointed out, "_just_ the title for our novelette."

"Say again?" asked Bill.

"As The Torrents Fall!" Captain Gregg announced.

The ladies picked themselves up from the floor of Mrs. Muir's workroom and began taking notes again. It had gotten to the point where these ghostly men were almost unintelligible in their collection of witty banter.

Now they were in the Carolyn Stoddard's room at Collinwood. As for the current novel they were looking over, it was Mrs. Muir's longest. It delved into the trials and tribulations of ghostly gatherings along the roads betwixt Schooner Bay and Collinsport. The state of Maine just seemed to be flooded with lost souls at times. Then at other times, it was filled with the type of poltergeists that had such a deft sense of humour one couldn't help but join them in the oddities of the mirth they shared with their living and undead relations.

"It's likely time for me to head home," said Mrs. Muir, sliding a cardboard top over the box of her pages, "but you really think it's good, Carolyn?"

"A little sadder than most," Miss Stoddard told her, "but you rarely miss anything when it comes to setting down all the details. That's what I've enjoyed most about working with you."

"You know," Mrs. Muir hesitated, "you never did tell me how that proposal came to be. You promised me you would when I called you today to come by."

Carolyn Stoddard, lying down on her stomach over her bed, looked down at her ring, a fair diamond set in a claw of gold. As many young lovers of the feminine variety do, she glanced there and fiddled with it. An engagement ring; A ring that would never meet its stone-less twin. And so, Carolyn Stoddard explained.

* * *

It was a ripening sunset along the shore and Tony Peterson had more on his mind than any of the usual dates Carolyn and he had enjoyed since he was released from the schemes of Roger's annulled wife. How it all came about he was never sure, but sometimes he'd hear a tongue twister and be reminded of this terrible hypnotist act he'd gone to see one night. It was never quite clear to him what had happened to him. However it _was_ clear to him what was happening now. He was in love and in love with a staggering hope. Would she say yes? And... might she say it tonight?

What Tony was happy about is that, for once, Carolyn was **not** in a blasted mini-skirt or short dress. No. He'd come to her house and saw that she was doing some wall papering in the East Wing. Somehow Carolyn Stoddard in olive overalls, a long sleeved white shirt and a bandana scarf to cover the top of her head was endearing enough for him to think: Yes, perfect.

Carolyn hadn't gotten so much paste along herself nor her clothes and she was pleased to know there was a distraction downstairs to take her away from the work. Really, there were just so many cobwebs in that place they could start a collection in the Family Diaries about where they found them all and likely how they came about with what happened in all of those rooms.

"Well?" Tony asked, giving her a kiss on the ear.

"Well?" she lightly giggled in response.

"How about a walk along the shore?"

"Sounds wonderful," she answered, moving up to wrap her arms over his head for a lengthy kissing embrace.

* * *

The gulls were in force and thankfully not asking for tid-bits from the couple, nor dropping any unwanted refuse in their way. Sand in the shoes as they pressed about the shore was of little concern.

"Thank you, " Carolyn breathed, "it's been such a long day. Good way to wrap it up like this. Makes me want to take my sneakers off."

"Why don't you?" Tony asked, grinning.

Carolyn almost nodded in kind, "You know? I think I will." Then she sat on a rock untied and pulled away her sensible shoes, neatly placing the pair, socks rolled into them, to her left. She wasn't prepared for what came next...

As she was leaning down she felt the pull and she was lifted up, barefoot, upon the boulder she had been sitting on and there was Tony looking up at her, with his arms around her middle. Carolyn Stoddard wasn't sure what to expect, except that she was very happy... right now...and pressed her lips against his to express it.

Their lips parted and he breathed, "I thought this might be the right time..."

"Oh?" Carolyn asked, "The right time for what?"

"It's why I wanted you above me," Tony said, reaching into the pocket of his trench coat. (No kneeling for this gentleman. Why have his trousers soaked in salt-water sand?)

"Oh..." Carolyn almost whimpered, "now? Tonight?"

Tony was facing down to make sure he was reaching for the right box in his pocket, "Of course, Carolyn, of course."

"Oh, no..." Carolyn hesitated, feeling she wasn't dressed for it, and Tony knew what she was thinking.

"Don't worry about those things, Carolyn... I think this was the right time and I think you look perfect just the way you are."

The box snapped open before her.

"I hope it's enough... to offer everything I have to give... _you._..Carolyn Stoddard."

There she stood, on top of that boulder, which could just as well have been on top of the world. Her face was touched with the sea breeze as her heart was touched more at this yearning of romance. She stared into his adoring hazel-brown eyes, the dark lashes blinking out echoes of her own feelings for him. Her silvery blonde hair were tended to by wisps of enchantment in the softly moving air. The ocean waves lapped and crashed behind her sweetheart, and she stared down at the ring he was offering her along with his passion. Locked together in harmony and matrimony... but... what did that mean, exactly?

"Be my bride, Carolyn Stoddard," Tony begged, looking up at her from where he'd placed her on the rock, "please... be my bride..."

She looked down, as she would a million times again and again at that ring.

"Don't make me answer... just put it on."

He did.

"It's beautiful, Tony... and it's as special as we are..."

"Is that a yes?"

Carolyn gave a sad simper, "I don't think you understand..."

Tony was worried, "What is it, Carolyn? What could make you say no?"

She giggled and snickered and kissed him to which he responded in kind but with some confusion.

"Tony Peterson, I could _never_ say no to you... but what I want to tell you is going to be very different ... to what... you might be expecting... now let us sit down together..."

Tony lifted her again and they sat upon the sands, the sunset turning red before their changing lives. An orange glow spread over their questioning faces.

"Tony... is it possible I could wear this ring... _forever?_"

"Of course it is... I don't care what your answer will be, if you only wear it."

"That's what I was hoping, Tony... you see... "

The waves continued crashing and the gulls squawked...

"After everything... between me and Buzz... between Jason Mcguire and my mother... between her new fellow now... and between you and I..."

"What is it, Carolyn?" he asked, carefully.

Carolyn looked to the setting sun that was almost gone now, and then turned to him again, "I don't want to be married... _ever..._"

Tony listened and he didn't understand except to wonder why all of his yearning so seldom turned out to fit his desires.

"You'll never be mine, will you, Carolyn?" he asked, sorrowfully, accepting defeat already.

Carolyn twisted her new ring and smiled at him, "Of course, I will, Tony."

Tony's world suffered dreadfully in his lack of understanding. A simper tried to come out but the awkwardness of the moment made even this small expression difficult.

"Carolyn... what can you mean?"

"I want to wear this ring forever... and be _yours_... forever... but I don't want to marry... do you understand?"

Tony's eyes brightened, "No, but I'm waiting for you to tell me."

She looked upon him and stroked his glossy dark hair, "With everything my mother has gone through, and what I've been through... well... it's just that... paperwork nonsense. You know? Can't we be happy and together without all of that?"

Tony Peterson reflected on this, at first believing he was receiving a refusal, but in all of his legal studies and profession he recognized _precisely_ what Carolyn meant in grueling paperwork. He became elated, stood and lifted her upright back to the boulder and into his arms. Tony looked up at her and understood.

"I see," he said, " you don't want me... you want... **us**."

"Yes, Tony... that's what I want... so... how about it?"

"How about what?" he questioned, almost reaching her conclusion.

Carolyn Stoddard stared carefully at him, "How about I wear this ring to my dying day... how about I'm yours forever without all that paperwork nonsense? ... how about us being engaged and that's as far as it goes?"

Tony Peterson smiled widely and kissed her passionately, then said, "Engaged? Forever? ... _I'll take it._"

And both Carolyn and Tony knew, that in all of their future, with whomever might voice that all they were doing were "shacking-up"... **they** knew better...

Tony held her up about her middle, her knees around his, and swung her around on the beach, kissing her intently. _It doesn't make any difference now,_ he thought, _this is what I want, this is what I have, and this is what always will be._

* * *

**"I Don't Want To Be A Bride"**

_I like your company_

_Got a fresh philosophy_

_Never knew_

_Such a gentleman_

_You can take me on a cheap vacation_

_I don't wanna have expectations 'cause you_

_Could be the end of me_

_And I don't need a house on a hill_

_A swing on a tree_

_Grandfather Clock_

_Porcelain for tea_

_A garden_

_With rose and Jasmine_

_Gonna get drunk on a bottle of wine_  
_No better way to pass the time_  
_Forever by your side_

_But I don't wanna be a bride_  
_Apologies to your mother_  
_I wanna be your girl_  
_And spend this life with you_  
_But I don't wanna wear white_  
_You know it's too late for that_  
_But can we keep the ever after?_  
_Oh could it be_

_Don't need no golden ring_  
_It'd be no match for the love it brings_  
_From London_  
_To Tennessee_  
_We could_  
_Catch a train to another life_  
_On a whim, under the moonlight_  
_I promise you_  
_Will you promise me?_

_Our last names on a wooden sign_  
_Arm in arm, where the river starts to wind_  
_Forever by your side_

_But I don't wanna be a bride_  
_Apologies to each other_  
_I wanna be your girl_  
_And spend this life with you_  
_But I don't wanna wear white_  
_Oh, you know it's too late for that_  
_But can we keep the ever after?_  
_Oh could it be_  
_Just you and me?_

_I, I, I_  
_We will live like kings_  
_Under lavender_  
_Skies_  
_Skies_  
_We will live like kings_  
_Under lavender_  
_Skies_  
_Skies_

_Built a poem, we kept a rhyme_  
_Wrapped our love in golden twine_  
_We wrote_  
_We wrote a legacy_  
_Just you and me_

_Just like kings under lavender_  
_Skies_  
_Skies_  
_We will_

* * *

By the by, I know _Dark Shadows_ has a TON of problems to fix, but if there are any _Ghost &amp; Mrs. Muir_ fans who want to see a corporeal Captain Daniel Gregg and Mrs. Carolyn Muir married in _The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows_, do let me know! I aim to please. *wink*


	22. Chapter 22: A Candle For Sarah

_"Josette's been so sad for such a long time... I thought maybe she'd like to be happy again so I made her a present... when someone you love has gone away, when you put a candle in your window they'll come home. And I know Josette wants Barnabas to come home because I think she still loves him."_

_" Yes, I think so too."_

_"I miss Barnabas a lot... Mother, I love Barnabas, and I want him to come home."_

_" Barnabas is going to be away in England for a long time, Sarah."_

_" How long?"_

_" Oh, perhaps as long as the life till you're grown up." _

_"I don't think Barnabas wants to stay away from us that long. I'll wait until it's dark. And I'll light the candle and put it in Josette's window. And somehow Barnabas will **know** it's there. And he'll come back to us. You'll see!"_

_Sarah Collins &amp; Naomi Collins in Dark Shadows, Episode 413, written by Gordon Russell._

* * *

Chapter 22: A Candle For Sarah 

My daughter, once Maggie Evans, or Josette Dupres, take your pick or combine them as I've done in persona with myself, was now Margaret Josette Dupres. And no question, at least from me. As a bi-lineal accomplishment to the wonders of this new life in Collinsport, no doubt influenced by that rascally ghost Caleb Collins, we'd decided on an unusual but still culturally French solution to every blasted person around here being named a Collins. I was glad of this idea. There were plenty enough Collins' to go around and more is the pity.

So this lengthy tie-in to those two lives was her married name. It's easier for women to change their name upon marriage as things go, even to a name that isn't her husband's. The only thing altering that is social stigma. It's never been a law to do it as some believe. As Andre Dupres I was happy to sign the witness box on the license even if the name I signed was the common Sam Evans I have now. No shame in the common, of course. That was the whole point of this nation. To build oneself up from a schooner to a massive fleet, as long as good philosophy and hard work was its influence.

And I had been good enough to know when were the times to step into my daughter's business and when it was time to leave well enough alone. She was happy and I was happy knowing that she was. It had been nearly two centuries we both endured reliving old injuries of what should have been long ago and since much of this was healed, my art has never thrived better.

But the ghost of my son-in-law's sister continued to be ever present. Coming into corporeal form at times or being a wisp, still that spirit was alive and aching to be re-united with her brother and my daughter as seldom that the latter two really knew each other. Believe me, they'd bonded considerably by now. (And I had to relieve a chuckle from my heart knowing this little girl had touched Mr. Willie Loomis of all people. Lovely... lovely what little girls can do.)

Sarah Collins would stay with me much of the time when she wasn't playing with David. In the acknowledgement that she was family, the snoots of Collinwood had grown less fussy and accepted her wholeheartedly. Why not? They were usually more soused than I was and at more even intervals. Those Collins put up with a lot, anyway. Ghosts. What's the big deal? Besides, as it oddly turns out, my daughter was one of them. Funny how that worked out. Had to look through a lot of Asiatic tales to uncork the confusion it was causing us. It was high time they stopped denying all the good their spooks had to offer instead of fighting against them so very often!

Ah. I suppose it was at one time considering that blackened sketch I'd created of the main house in its gloomier aspects. I had felt a little embarrassment when Sarah found a copy I'd created. She pointed out that it didn't look that way to her and I confessed that she was correct, so we spent some time in the same area I'd made that tragic looking piece of art and I started another with more detail to its grandeur and loving beauty now than in days of old.

I wouldn't have Sarah be bored though, so I made sure to give her some tools of her own: crayons. She'd never seen them before or at least not this kind as the invention was far different in our old days. Heck, I likely don't recall them at all when I've let my mind wander back to that time. Sarah didn't draw the house, though. She kept her work on nature. She had a good talent for trees and flowers. The trees I especially appreciated because with the wildly colourful creations some kids like to make, this box was getting a rub down out of the usually wasted varieties of brown.

Due to this unique blend of happenings I found some even older crayons I'd kept on hand on the off chance a little one might arrive at the cottage. Later when Sarah asked for help with this project near the end of her time with us I pulled the fragments out along with the rest of the supplies I'd gathered.

I set an old skillet on the stove I wasn't too worried about ruining and filled it with water. Turned up the heat and let it get hot, as I discussed with my ghostly daughter-of-sorts what her plans would be.

"Well, you see," she began in her high lilting, Colonial accent, "I'd made a candle long ago for Josette's window because we both missed Barnabas and we loved him. So I thought... why not... make one... for myself?"

"Huh... had you, now?" I asked, "Why would you want to make one for yourself?"

"Because, I'll have to be leaving... tonight... and... I'd like to come back... but not_ this_ way. You see?" Sarah reasoned.

I stroked my beard, "Hmm... Sarah... do you mean... you'll be coming back the way Josette and I came back?"

"As myself..." she looked down, "I'm not sure how to describe it."

"Flesh and bones, you mean..." I offered her.

"Yes," she answered, "and... looks like the water is boiling, Monsieur Dupres."

She was almost right, it was ready. One had to simmer this water and I grabbed the pie tin with the hunks of beeswax I'd already placed on it. Then I set it down on the simmering water and the two of us watched it slowly melt in the pan.

"How will we create the wick?" she questioned.

"Ah!" I responded with no reluctance, "here is the twine I have. The thicker the better... although, my dear, one mustn't use **rope**."

Our little girl giggled, "Yes... and what do we colour it with?"

I ah-ha' d again bringing out the coffee tin of crayons. She'd wanted purple for some strange purpose she couldn't tell me, so we started with melting bits of red and blue. Not the greatest idea. Didn't turn as purple as she would have liked. So we found the various purple crayons and watched those melting in the pan and then a darker, fuller purple came about from the odd swirl of colour amidst all the wax and richness. Then came where to put this melted wax.

Somehow managing not to slice myself, I'd cut the top off of a can of beer, knotted the twine around a stick and let it set across the top of the open can as I asked Sarah why she couldn't explain herself as well as we all needed her information.

"Oh," she admitted with a sleepy grin, stirring the wax above the bubbling water underneath the pie-tin with an old paintbrush I didn't care about, "it's all like dreams to me, Monsieur Dupres. I see some things, I can talk about them, but I can't always understand them myself."

"Ah," I nodded, "perhaps you're looking forward to the day _a-l-l_ of those faculties will be brought to you as a human being, Sarah Collins."

She turned from the stove and smiled at me, "I'm not sure what you mean, but I think you're right." Then she let go a vocal sigh and continued, "It looks all melted now."

"All right," I heaved, picking up a few unsentimental pot holders. I took two curves of the pie tin and poured them into the beer can with the twine. Sarah looked on, and watched the inevitable spills of wax, gathering them up with cotton cloths I'd set aside and should have thrown out months ago. Just as well to use them up this way.

It was a cool enough evening to take the wax filled beer can outside and let it harden more thoroughly. Sarah and I sat outside while we waited patiently, knowing the candle would have to set for hours this way and not caring, just enjoying the evening. I had a cup of Irish Coffee prepared for this time of contemplation anyway.

The stars beamed out toward us and there were golden, silvery silences as well as an odd interest of whatever wildlife decided to make noise between the stillness she and I were sharing. I dipped my finger in the cut beer can of wax and pulled back, flaking off the bits that had hardened on my fingertip to the ground.

"Sam Evans," she finally called me by my modern name, "what does it mean to be... reincarnated?"

I sipped my whiskey laden vessel, "Oh, well..." then I set the cup on its saucer and poured again from both the coffee thermos I'd set out as well as the flask beside it, "my dear daughter-in-law, reincarnation means to live again in a new body. Sometimes we remember what we lived before and sometimes we forget, but either way... you see those stars up there, my girl?"

"Of course," she told me, looking up.

"That up there, Sarah Collins, is the vast stretch of the universe, which we know little about. But it guides us, it watches over us and very likely it IS us altogether. Do you understand?"

"No... not exactly, but I think... I know what you mean... like those dreamlike ideas I can't understand enough to explain to anyone."

I chortled happily in my further intoxication, "Sarah Collins, I think it's time you and we were parted to become better people. Am I right?"

"Yes, Monsieur Dupres, I think you're very much correct."

I'll admit, I wasn't very sober when we left. Likely driving through the town of Collinsport to get to The Old House, where my daughter now lived with her excessively romantic husband, wasn't the brightest of ideas, but then again, I had Sarah's ghost to guide me through possible rough terrain, not that we encountered any. The best part, in all its dire heat, Sarah was able to hold on to the beer can with its still hardening wax as I drove and I winked at her as she did so. That would be something she couldn't do if it weren't for her supernatural aspects.

A familiar face in an austere butler outfit answered the door with a turned down grin. That man always knew what was going on and rightly so. He ushered us in. I relieved my coat on a hanger as Sarah pressed forward and Maggie gave out a surprised greeting.

"So," I teased, "honeymoon over yet, Maggie?"

"No," she laughed, "I have my doubts that it ever will be."

"And rightly so," I told her, "bizarre enough to share times of old and new in terms of being reborn. Plenty of other ghastly creations in this town. I'm just pleased for what you and Barnabas are; supernatural in ability but far more human in aspect and appearance."

"Well I wasn't going to go through with it if it was going to turn ghastly, I can tell you that." Maggie admitted in that chortling way she had.

"Ah," I said, "but I speculate there are times that it does."

"That's true, Pop... there are times. What have you got there, Sarah?"

"Another candle for you, Josette," the little girl explained, finding the ice bucket beside the davenport. It had almost been removed by Wadsworth before she reached in to place the can of candle in it to cool. I could see the wax had almost set.

"Another one?" my daughter asked.

"Oh, yes. We thought Barnabas had gone to England and we both missed him so I made a candle to put by your window for him. Then I saw him, of course. You likely remember the rest."

"No-o-o need to dwell on that, you two," I told them, sitting down, "How about you find your old brother and bring him out here, Sarah. You likely know where he is."

Sarah wandered to the staircase and padded up. Maggie sat down in the armchair and leaned forward, "How are the paintings coming along, Papa?"

"Oh, fine. Not always so dazzling when I lose a brush filament into the scenery, especially if it's a cloud or something, but that's what tweezers are for."

She laughed and then sighed. Leaning her elbows on her knees she folded her hands and rested her chin on them. Her demeanour became sadly concerned, "Pop. It's Sarah isn't it?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But I wouldn't be too worried about it. This is only the last time you see her as a _ghost_ is all."

"Oh?" Maggie sat up with surprise, hands now in lap, "you mean like us, Pop?"

"Sure," I said, happily, "Why not?"

"Well," slightly flustered here, "whose having any kids around here? Carolyn's certainly not of the mind. She's enjoying her work too much. Is it... Victoria?"

"Margaret Josette Dupres," I gave her a grin, "why does it have to be somebody _else?"_

She stiffened further and rubbed her knees with her hands. Then almost gasping, "I'm... I'm not ready for that. I'm not even sure we're capable of that."

"Who said you were? What? Did you think you were going to instantaneously sprout stretch marks and balloon up overnight and suddenly spring forth a child tomorrow?"

She snorted a laugh, "No, no. I see."

"If you want it, it will happen, Maggie. But you've got to _want_ it first and that might take awhile. We both know how these things work. It takes time. That's why Sarah has to leave now. That's what the candle is for. The last one she made you was to bring Barnabas back. This one is for her to _come_ back... through you... and him."

Footfalls came down the steps and Sarah reached us, asking if the candle was done. I took a look at it and it had finally cooled. Then I carefully found a serrated edge to peel back the thin metal and the wrapping coiled off like a singular strip of potato skin, minus the difference in texture. Then I gave it to Sarah.

Sarah stepped toward Maggie in the chair, "This is for you, when you miss me, you can light it in your window. You won't forget, will you?"

Maggie took the candle and looked at it in all its uneven shape, the only splendour being the love it was made with. Her tears came and she hugged the child who'd come to mean so much to us, and God Willing, would do so again someday.

"No. I won't forget, Sarah... dear... you mean so much to us. You know that don't you?"

"I thought so, but it's impolite to boast, you know."

"Hardly a boast," I said, "to know what you mean to others?"

"Sarah," Maggie touched the girl's hair, "have you said goodbye to everyone?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded, "Wadsworth was very regal about it, of course. Willie was awfully sad but he understood. I'm not sure about Roger Collins. He says things and I don't know what they mean exactly. But I let David and Elizabeth know I'd try to come back. I just wasn't certain how."

"Saved up the hardest for last, I see," said I.

Sarah turned to me with some sorrow, "Yes. Barnabas. I told him to wait upstairs so that we could all go up."

And so we did. Right into Josette's room. Fitting again as likely this would be the place Sarah would _be_ conceived. Not that I dwell much on what goes on in _here_. Our archivist and Victoria Winters can do all the dwelling they want to if it pleases them. Ahem!

Barnabas Collins stood there, as suited and vested as he normally is and with that same dismal expression we remembered from so long ago considering what was happening and how little he understood it. The woe on his face brought to mind the broo-ha of that mess with Jeremiah Collins and it's unfortunate results. I probably should lay off my wise-cracks on the guy now that even _he'd_ redeemed his memory.

Sarah Collins took the candle from Josette and place it at her window. Not the same window nor the same room when she had done this before but the same feeling of beloved ritual. Barnabas knelt there before her stroking the long trailing of her brown hair.

"What does this mean, Sarah?" he beseeched, "Are you truly going away from us now?"

"I have to, Barnabas," she confessed, "or else I can't come back."

"Why not, my dear?" here he held her tenderly by the arms.

"Barnabas, the way I keep coming back is hard... and not just for me but the others helping me to do it. I want to come back for keeps but that's going to take a long time."

"Why will it take so long?"

"I need to... prepare... and you both need to be ready... to take care of me too."

"But we've taken care of you so far. Isn't that enough?" he slid his hands down her arms, gently taking her fingers.

"Not the way I need to come back. But don't be sad. Look forward to it. I am."

Here he let go one of her hands and in his kneel reached the other to his lips, "Every day and night, Sarah, I'll look forward to it every day and night."

She smiled to the point of a giggle. He had to ask what that was for, releasing his agonized look somewhat. Then she said, "I don't know if you've kissed my hand like that before. You always do it with all the other ladies."

A sad but pleasant look dawned on him, "Yes, and they're usually grown ladies. But you have taught _us_ to grow and that makes you the finest of ladies in the world, Sarah Collins."

Sarah then embraced her brother and her eyes became misty as his brimmed. We were all in danger of tears now as my own view of the scene clouded. He held her strongly in return which was both touching and painful, reminding me of the deaths of my wife and for whatever reason she left us both times.

"And I'll be good, my dear," he uttered shakily, "I _promise_ you... I will be."

"I know you will, Barnabas. It's because you have her. That's why I came back."

Sarah released him and then reached out toward Maggie and she stepped by their side. Sarah let go and pedalled backwards closer to the curtain. I love you's were spoken brokenly and she and I exchanged delicate waves, although mine likely appeared more like a salute in my weakening state. Then she began to fade as she had often done before but in this instant there was a light that shined, becoming a group of iridescent orbs trailing into a mist which shed itself from sight.

She was gone.

The home of Barnabas Collins and Margaret Josette Dupres was childless once more, but the two stood holding each other softly and stroking each others backs.

It must have been one long minute before anyone spoke, and I knew from the usual manner of my son-in-law that naive question would come out.

"What did she mean by coming back?" he questioned her, "Why would we need to be ready?"

Maggie would likely tell him, but this was my cue to step out of the room. You see, I was _biting my tongue_ with how obvious it was to me and ought to have been to him. In the preternatural scheme of things around here it was clear to me that their conceiving a child would be no easy task, but that was what Sarah, Maggie and I had all understood. No question of it.

I closed the door of her room to let them alone and finally breathed aloud, "**Go** to bed with your bride one of these nights, Barnabas Collins... and _y-o-u'l-l_ figure it out."

A dark figure stepped out from a shadow with a knowing grin.

"Yes, sir," nodded the butler, "he will."

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_Please leave commentary. Sam was talking to me detailing all of this out when I was standing in line at the market buying my grocieries and I didn't understand. Now I do, and I hope you do as well. Thanks_


	23. Reflections: How All This Came To Be

_Yes, there shall be more chapters of this post-marriage story, but first a brief interlude..._

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Reflections: How This All Came To Be

This intriguing Author's Note is written in first person by me. Yes, this is Daryl Wor speaking to my audience, and hopefully any friends who are very pleased that things have turned out so well for my spouse and I recently. It's wonderful to know you dear but far away kindred souls are so happy for us rather than grinding your teeth in envy. (Hence my wanting to publish this book in print. If it helped us in all our complexity it might help a LOT of people and I'd like to find a way to share the love, even to non DS fans. Some erotica readers WILL take anything. *smile*)

I wanted to add this augmented letter I wrote to a pen friend because I felt it was a good summary of how all of this came about. Just in case any readers are wondering how I managed to come up with this stuff. As aforesaid, it isn't really easy. I've had to become the characters in empathizing with the well-being they were starving for. In fact some of you may be wondering about my gender: I am a **woman** and my husband is a **man**. And the creation of this novel bled its healing power into our marriage by being so incredibly passionate. I have never come so close to really knowing what it was like for a man to be with a woman... and then for me to be... THIS man and THIS woman? GOOD HEAVENS!

Mind you, we have not explored as these two have explored but we've come close. I want to express to you my husband and I do not venture escapades on cliffs nor on rooftops. (And neither have we broken any beds... yet.) Our healed marriage was inspired by this couple who insisted on being heard in their ecstasy since last Autumn (2013) And because of their influence I woke up one morning with a swollen knee! :/ Must have been one heck of a night! (Ice-packs for over a week. I'm not kidding! Not the funnest plight to limp to the market and back for groceries with no car.)

* * *

Dear "Pen Pal",

While I had a cold for over a month, I took advantage of this visual influence I had for Barnabas &amp; the reincarnated Josette being married… and what would it be like when they finally got upstairs at that old house of his and into her bedroom he'd been keeping sacred for an eternity?

Well! **That** skill of mine took me places I **NEVER** thought I could go. Hope you don't mind **dirt** because you're about to hear some! (And I've never written smut before.) I sat down an hour before having to go to work just thinking, "OK, work it out for some post coital discussion material you could make clean with their clothes on."

Let me tell you, those two were _REPRESSED!_ I knew a photo of at least one of the actors in his bathing suit so that helped. Then as I pictured them in the room on the bed there was all this "gauze" in my mind's eye that I literally was trying to move away with my hands. Next I got the wedding night scene and as it revealed itself to me I was in shock:

"BOOMPH! AH! NAKED! AH! Throw some blankets on! AH!" :S

_Okay, that's better._

"Wow…" I thought, as I watched, "...wow… um, okay,_ that's_ severe… whoah… hey, they just fell off the bed…. Wow, they're rolling around the room in the bedclothes… yikes! They're knocking stuff over! **CRAP!** That 1795 portrait of her over the fireplace just fell off the wall they _rammed_ themselves into! GOOD NIGHT!"

You can only imagine my reaction. I literally shook in my seat! Didn't expect _that_ scene to appear before me.

So, I take those pictures in my mind to work with me.

As I'm doing some boring testing for one patient, the pictures come back into my head while I sit there. "A-ha," I realize, "So **this** is what people think of at work when they're bored." :)

As time went on I got my post-coital discussion and continued with whatever… Then I noticed…

Hmmmmmm... I've been frigid for about eight years now… hmm… I seem to be gradually interested again.

And with how complex **I** am, of _COURSE_ it would take some 200 year old vampire and a triple-reincarnation of his long lost love to melt MY ICE. So with that on my mind, and some wine in my stomach, there are a number of_ pleasant_ evenings around here. ;)

One night after this experience, I step to the keyboard and say, "I'm going to write some smut!"

Throw on music that will inspire as well as listening to some love story that always seemed to turn me on, I let Barnabas take over to write out the scene... I steered clear of vulgar word usage and as a friend of mine expressed, it's unlike anything she's read before. And she reads LOTS of porn. (I don't.)

Then my cold ensued for that month I couldn't finished Episode 7 of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" and I could really do nothing else. No recording or voice acting. So I stayed home on Thanksgiving and the madness continued with the smut and the love scenes and **this** is going to be the beautiful Collinsport I helped to reach them to in all it's more subdued but spooky glory.

There are currently over 50,000 words of it. And that ain't the radio drama so don't expect me to _ever_ read it out loud! The radio drama currently has about 100,000 words written.

However if you ARE into that and manage to read it, DO reflect to me your insights on it. I'm not looking for "Good Job!" because frankly, after 8 years of writer's block and anhedonia and frigidity, I already *KNOW* it's good! Hee hee hee… In all my social isolation and loneliness it's almost all I've got… except my _renewed married **bliss**._

Ah, at last! And, after combing for stories about that vampire and his woman finally getting each other and never finding any, NOW I get to sit back and look: Yep! That's a Happy Man… _FINALLY!_

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As Annette Hanshaw likes to say at the end of each of her songs: "That's all." :)


	24. Chapter 23: Summary & Kitty Soames Notes

Summary of Chapter 23 &amp; Fun Notes about Kitty Soames being Josette Dupres:

Since I'm planning on publishing this novel, and my contact from that firm called me twice in one week while I was still back on chapter 6, I know that book publishers aren't keen on printing material that's already been online to read for free. Hence 3 chapters of this novel will be the bonus tracks, which yes *smile* will include the bathtub chapter.

What's missing for this one is coming back to Maggie's memories as both Kitty Soames **and** Josette Dupres, along with Kitty Soames **as** Josette Dupres in the retcon that splits Dark Shadows from 1897 to 1795 (though, bless the overworked writers/actors, they got the year dates wrong in the program).

Again, we have John Sullivan from the 2000 film "Frequency" to get a good understanding of Maggie's regression ability from "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows, Episode 12: Dark Therapy". (Another reason my performance of this is freaking me out because I will have to channel all three of the ladies to form them into one as well as re-living Maggie through her kidnapping with Barnabas. The crying and screaming this involves is something I'm **not** looking forward to other than as a personal challenge.)

But with John Sullivan's new memories folding over old ones again and again is a good example of what Maggie Evans has to face with both Josette's original life and death and Kitty's retcon **of** Josette's life and death. Unfortunately Kitty will have to die as in the original program so that when "The Doctor" comes to rescue Barnabas and wipe out The Leviathans he will remind Barnabas that the whole purpose of going back to 1897/1795 was to redeem himself so that Maggie could trust him as the honourable man he was and wished to be again by helping the family and David's existence in the 1960's. She wants him but knows he has to prove his worth. According to this novel it's already happened but this is a far jump ahead in my plans of the radio drama.

This bedroom chapter involves Barnabas having turned away in bed and as many a haunted and harmed dreamer, Maggie is now facing her previous lives as both Josette and Kitty/Josette. She sees his back, she sees him turning away and also because she doesn't see his face she's reminded of the spell and being in bed with Jeremiah who she only loved because Angelique bewitched her and is a female pronoun that surpasses RUDE beyond all of our wildest imaginings. Seeing a shady form of a bareback and dark hair after having a dream of that time... yikes! Could be anyone...

Of course, Barnabas hears her crying and faces her immediately, touching her in all the tenderness he can bestow. He knew that this evening would come and prays he can do his best to comfort her. She needs love and his love in the proof to break her from what she's haunted by. The proof that he's there. The proof that the present is real.

This also goes back to Episode 13 of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" (still in audio production). Julia and Barnabas have an argument after Maggie's regression therapy. Of course, Julia is angry as she was the instrument in her therapy but more so because, as many fans agree, "What the hell is it about Maggie or Josette that makes her so damn perfect?"

Barnabas is pretty pissed-off at this assumption and tells her it's something more, it's _divine_, "Or don't you even know what that means?"

I got closer to what he meant in creating this chapter because in the middle of one position Maggie and Barnabas make-love in he stops and explains what he means by her being divine. He tells her, ""Divine has a meaning other than the idea of perfection, my Josette. To me, it encompasses the natural beauty of all things from the largest wonders, to the pettiest trifles. It's a blending, and though highly grand, also contains some things which are not at peace nor superb."

It took me a while searching through religious and spiritual websites to find out what he meant. Even I, your author, was not sure why he kept insisting on this either. :/

Then we have them continuing in a more standard position. Barnabas continues with a precision of something she needs as he's been gentle but she wants a little more and a little more and... well, I think you get the idea. ;) He succeeds and she's much better.

So! In order to relieve any unnecessary suspense, and save on chapter space, I have decided to add some old notes of mine that I took in letter/journal writing form to give DS fans the tool they need to understand the strong purpose in Kitty Soames, also known as Lady Hampshire. I understand her brief existence on the show compared to how long many characters remained can leave viewers and fans with an assumptive knowledge of her.

I have not only studied Josette Dupres, Maggie Evans and Kitty Soames, I spent much of last year extensively studying reincarnation which is how I found the signs that all three of these women could be, and are to me, one woman. I praise Dr. Ian Stevenson very highly but mostly because he is the main researcher whose name I can remember. R. I. P.

As you know me, I do my homework and I do it as thoroughly as I can. I don't do Alternate Universe, I do Interruption which is rare to uncommon in Dark Shadows fan work. If I wanted Anything-Goes material I would have dropped the need for Kitty Soames. However, I care about this project and I want it to be an authentic representation of _Dark Shadows_ to be enjoyed by whoever wants it to relieve their own suffering in the desire that these characters loving personas could finally find contentment and an easier life. (And to find my own kindred souls. Maybe THEN people will stop harping on that goofy 2012 movie and give ME some damn credit. LOL!)

Anyway, if one has not so much knowledge of Kitty Soames? Well, here ya go. :)

* * *

_Just some notes I took to a pal when I was up for ages skipping through all the other nonsense distracting me from this major story component I realised I needed to get accurately down for "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". Many aren't sure of the Kitty Soames mess, so here's a goofy explanation in all my usual variety of slang._

_I was going to get rid of the swearing, but after seeing what passes for a T-rating around here, it doesn't seem to matter unless you've got the f-word or worse... Besides, it's kind of funny to describe in a conversational way. We all pretty much know how semi-bland the original dialogue might sound at times._

* * *

884 &amp; 886 (disk 91) Figuring out the Lady Hampshire broo-ha

This all post Kitty and Barnabas morphing into Josette's painting. Hmm! Unique time-travel method! Is this like when people walk through mirrors?

But WOW! What a pile of unique team work. Barnabas awakens via this weird portrait time travel thing somewhere in the brush, with his even OLDER clothes on. "Oh good! I still have my cane!" he seems to think as he reaches for it, stands up and BOOMPH! There's BEN! YAY! In all his murky, poor-man-with-bad-haircut glory.

Hence the land of confusion (as Genesis sings) begins in the turmoil of "Where's Kitty?" and Ben's TOTALLY confused like, "What the HELL are you talking about Mr. Barnabas?" Then the dialogue goes something like this.

Wait? What year is it? What day? What hour? What was happening? Did we meet at the shed yet? No? You were coming to look for me there and couldn't find me? Okay... now, did Josette jump? No? Okay? (Various confused references back to Kitty, to which Ben is just getting worried by, much less baffled.) Well, what had I been up to that night? Shoot! This is a pain! Is she? Oh, not at the Old House? Well you have to get her thereto her old room... or as he would normally say, and says A LOT to Ben at this point "You MUST do this and you MUST do that." Whatta guy. :)

So Josette, waking up in her room in the NEW house, assumes the whole life as Kitty Soames was a dream as Aunt Natalie is pacing around the room to make sure the prophecy of her jumping off the cliff won't happen. Well, Josette won't have that.

Meanwhile, Barnabas figures out Angelique is still hanging around (Wait! didn't he already marry and shoot her? Bah! Maybe it's some ghost version or something, WHO knows?) So he talks to her to say, "YO! Don't be tricking Josette to jump off the cliff, you ho."

To which Angelique goes "Oh, why should I? Aren't you just going to turn her into a vampire?"

"No! Not this time! It ain't happening! I got me a solution."

And of course she's almost Cassandra doe-eyed here and asks, "You really love her don't you?"

(Told my spouse this as he got ready for work, he nearly swallowed his toothpaste!)

Anyway, as you may likely expect Barnabas to respond to THIS question: "NO SHIT, BITCH!"

"Well, why should I? What do I get out of it?"

And he says, as stolidly as possible, "I'd be REALLLLLLLLLLY GRATEFUL!"

And her quaint response is, "I do wish you would use the word LOVE when it came to ME!"

At this point in my telling it all to my own love, he spit out his toothpaste and said, "OKAY! I would LOVE it if you would NOT do that!"

(Somewhere in all of this there are quite a few coughs off screen. Ah well.)

And so Angelique doesn't agree and fades off in some blue-screen special effect.

And THEN, the scene comes about where _again_ Josette trips out on her fricken music box opening on its own, but HEY! we didn't see the WIRE that opened it this time! Good job guys! And she hears Barnabas calling her out to the cliff, which is obviously some fool witchery trick. So out Josette goes again to the cliff to see the vision of her turning into a vampire!

"Oh big whoop, girl," I say, "Live forever at night and feast on bastards the world doesn't need anyway," but it's long ago and no one's figured that out yet.

BUT! Will Barnabas come to scare her, and she'll jump as He, yet again NOT jump after her?

"Here he comes!" the voice of Angelique taunts as you hear steps along the cliff. But WAIT!

**It's a "Star Trek: The Next Generation" style SWITCH-A-ROO! ^_^**

It's Countess Aunt Natalie! Yay! I guess Barnabas got her to go in his stead! Nice work!

So Josette's all safe and whatnot (as if THAT'S gonna last, darn soap-opera!) and hanging out with, YAY, Millicent, who is as silly as ever and baffled at this vial of poison Josette randomly had. Why IS it they either drag it on in this show, or stuff the entire universe into one episode?

Rarely does there seem to be any middle of the road!

Or as my paramour bespoke: "All right! We've dragged this out with enough shit, time to wrap things up and move on to something new!" LOL! Cracks me up. He really rushed through that explanation like a bored film director.

Meanwhile Barnabas and Natalie are hashing out the details, though he did help her to save her niece, she still doesn't buy that Barnabas won't mess with Josette badly. Of course we have an admirable Barnabas in this new 1790's, but still Natalie won't cooperate, so he tries to hypnotise her but she looks away, then she finally turns around slowly to take a peep and WHOOSH!

Out come the fangs! YAY! Good job.

So, Natalie is now cooperating, though shaky, meets up with Millicent, tells Josette to go to her new house bedroom...

So there's Barnabas to try and explain to his scared Josette (who was once Kitty somehow...) many flubs along the way to this new 1796, (well, if continuity was done better it would be 1795,) then of course this confuses our lady as Barnabas tries to tell Josette/Kitty/Whoever to go back with him to 1896 (again the continuity would be 1897).

And FINALLY, after much nervous arguing, we get some SMOOCHING!

Thank you!

Although, with all the coughing continuing through these various episodes off camera, it wasn't very passionate, so I must presume there was some cold going around they may not have been trying to catch.

Considering THOSE two, though, I would expect them to have sucked each other's heads off and swallowed.

"SHEEZ!" my chap said to that, "That was extreme!"

"Well, so are they," I laughed.

I may not have gotten Kitty all that accurate in my own episode 12, but it ought to be an easy fix. Still! I was very close! Surprisingly close for not knowing much about her at all. Got a few other lines I need to change, too. That was mainly what I was looking for and I knew it would rend my heart, but at least there was some hope and teamwork in there. (And so Next-Gen style too! That impresses me for 1969 TV much less THIS show! I can't remember if they managed that on OS Trek... Anyone know?)

I watched a little more and then saw the Leviathans, grabbed my sweet-hearts various Sonic Screw- driver toys and aimed them at the screen.

_That was fun. A purple glow grew upon their faces. Now do you know why I want reviews and feedback and laughs and encouragement? This could go on from 50-100 episodes and won't it be fun to get all the way there? I'm only human; humans need that kind of thing to kick-start their endeavours._

_As Dr. Emmett Brown from "Back To The Future" says in this lovely quotation "If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour... you're gonna see some serious shit."_

_Take care, gentle readers..._


	25. Chapter 24 Summary

Chapter 24 Summary:

This Hidden Chapter reveals another passionate evening. Barnabas expresses the ritual he shares with Maggie of lighting the candles each night as well as her continued alterations of being a blend of all three women. She does this in her clothes and in the way she styles her hair. She shows it in her change of speech.

After coming through many troubles, and healing from that, the stronger powers as being otherworldly, however human in appearance, begin to grow. There were shifts in previous chapters wherein they could hear each other's thoughts, but that depleted when Maggie began remembering the kidnapping stronger. This would likely happen because she believes she's faced the truth in this marriage but when things aren't strictly dealt with in a way that compounds true expression and healing, the torment resurfaces. Bad things come to haunt us all; similarly with both Kitty and Josette.

A previous chapter explores that pain of Kitty and Josette being left behind by Barnabas or being frightened of him with exaggerated knowledge of his curse. Enacting the love scene on Widow's Hill was also important to change the fear to peace.

Yep! I, your author, am likely **far** more like Dr. Julia Hoffman as a psychologist than anyone ever knew. :)

With much of these needs met for the healing process, however passionate Josette and Barnabas now exist to be, a further realm is explored: That of being able to bond in both knowledge and conversation of thought. The love they share would likely boost this ability or make it more possible than in standard Dark Shadows telepathy. Usually thoughts are sent to a victim of a vampire rather than a mutual communication, and of course, considering the master &amp; servant element in Dark Shadows, usually it isn't just a thought, it's a command.

What a show during the Summer of Love! LOL! Still, I shall try not to throw any hippies into "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". I still like beatniks more and Willie Loomis mentioned beatniks to Mrs. Johnson in Dark Shadows already so there ya go. Should get a nice mention in my 11th Episode.

The usual eruption of passion is shared but furthering their bond as soul mates with being able to speak to each other with... erm... busy lips? Ah, what might some lovers enjoy with THAT ability? You could kiss, have oral sex, AND speak words of romance to your paramour. This could be the _only_ thing Gomez &amp; Morticia might envy from this pair! Glad I finally found something... *wink*

Still, part of Barnabas is still in awe and terror. Does he really deserve all of this after becoming such a monster and having done her harm? Maggie hears these fears and cools them. Oh yes, the pain, the horror, the healing, to reach _this? _**So worth it!** :)


	26. Chapter 25: A Day In The 1960's

_This chapter shows Barnabas Collins and Margaret Josette Dupres discussing difficulties in remembering how much has happened since they've been married and reflecting on how their problems were solved._

_I did an extensive amount of research in re-carnation hypnosis and its startling results. Dr. Ian Stevenson was getting his start around the time Dark Shadows was already a staple of many homes so it culminated well in all of my stories._

_I also put this together months ago on the trouble with the lack of gaining commentary from my many readers. The mentality in this new age of device technology and obliviousness to the human needs of fan fiction writers struck a chord when my spouse read our usual Q and A columns one weekend._

_And I had also tested my audience here on Friday the 13th of December 2013 to see if they could understand the necessity for reviewing by posting episode 15 of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" and expressing why positive feedback was so important. The large audience returned for this episode but..._

_This attempt to garner support failed, of course._

_However my being infuriated that an audience of readers could be so aloof and uncaring for two years was coupled with the fact that I'd gotten the harsh news about the death of a dear friend. And I was not in any way informed kindly of his death. It was done with a lot of hostility. So I dedicated this story to him considering the lack of human touch displayed in modern times and especially online._

* * *

Chapter 25 "A Day In The 1960's"

_Dedicated to the memory of my dear friend Rich, who passed away December 4th 2013_

_..._

My bride and I have been looking over our journals in hopes of finding one particular evening of rapturous pleasure.

I do see. There are a number of missing pages. Perhaps our archivist knows wherein they've gone? Haven't seen her much lately. She's been investigating other necessities with dear Victoria, who of course, always was a member of this family. The two do spend much time engrossed in the details of this estate. How it does give me peace of mind. Perhaps they're both looking over the finer points and seeing which are too explicit, possibly, for this release. Ah well.

"Darling," my Maggie returned, "they could be making prints of them."

"By hand? Or that other invention?"

"Yes," she answers, "isn't it peculiar that the man who invented xerography left so much in the way of funding to promote the work in the study of reincarnation?"

"Why is that?" I ask.

"One would think that a man with such an invention would have left money to… well… cloning or something of that nature."

Ah, now that I understand these things. I can see what she means. I've only _perused_ the essay of Dr. Ian Stevenson's "The Evidence for Survival from Claimed Memories of Former Incarnations". Apparently his work is something we too, must be grateful for.

"Of course," she continues, "I _must_ be grateful not to feel the need to hold anymore Tea Dances for the time being."

I need cast toward Her a deeply knowing tone, "Kitty…"

"Oui?" she answers, trying to confuse me. I have to laugh a little at this.

As our archivist has told us, in the time she comes from, many people have several different names. Any confusion to my dearest, whom I still voice as a bride, it's simply more romantic, is relegated to an ease of comfort when all comes to surface in the truth. It took a lot for us to reach this point of bliss. Three incarnations to reach me… wasn't it obvious to anyone what was to be? It was to me as I went through time and experienced it. But still, we do have certain parapsychologists to bless for all of this. This is why my father-in-law sent the proceeds I paid him of the painting he destroyed for me to such researchers.

And I'm glad to hear of this Dr. Stevenson and his work. It looks as if it will be a long series of investigations for him. And he never reveals his findings to be the proof, simply evidence. Of course, this is all well and in-order for me… as I… have _my_ proof. And our journals, which could be disclosed except that there are several pages missing right now… or it could be our archivist is keeping them to herself. And I wouldn't blame her. They are rather heavy going. And I must admit, difficult to pen. My hand shakes even now over the details.

"We can't remember how the bathing room was constructed," speaks my lady, "I want to say it was built into my room, but maybe that extension had been already been adjoined at the time. Can't you remember, Barnabas?"

"No, Josette, I cannot. I only remember…" I falter.

"Oh," she smiles, speaking lowly, "it _was_… rather… _wet_…"

"Yes… it was…"

"And…" she breathes, "those moments as we reached the floor… when I told you…"

"When I… explored you?" I whisper in her ear.

"Hmm," she begins to almost moan, "yes. Might… we?"

"Yes, my love," I tell her, "Let us… go… upstairs."

* * *

When Victoria and I arrived at The Old House, we called up the stairs, then noticed our couple were beyond busy… presumably, considering what we over heard. Ahem!

"Hmm," she said, "let's sit outside and read that newspaper you brought."

"Good idea," I agreed quickly, it'll likely be a _while_."

We found a decent spot on a bricked garden planter a fair distance away from any noise. Victoria rattled open the paper and sniffed, "Oh… my…"

"What is it?" I asked.

"This paper must be from the future! Ours wouldn't introduce topics like this! Hee, hee, hee... Looks like we just can't get away from the subject," she laughed, "This advice columnist got a letter… Seems a lady is extremely pushy to get her... _sex-toy_ business off the ground and a friend needs to know how to politely decline her gatherings."

I belted out, "Tell her to take her butt-plugs and SHOVE IT!" Then I proceeded to roll off my seat onto the ground and lost myself in riotous laughter. I noticed some time later that Victoria was _not_ lightly tittering as I expected, but rather shaking so hard with mirth as to nearly weep on the paper.

"You don't understand," she told me, seeing my surprise.

_*I* don't understand?_ I thought. _Wasn't that usually her line? But anyway…_

"Peter &amp; I were looking over that catalogue you leant us," she went on between chuckles, "He suggested trying those out and…"

"You told _him_ to take his butt-plugs and shove it?" I grinned.

"Practically!" she almost shouted.

"Well, I'm with you there, Vicky. Still whatever floats ones boat, I suppose."

After calming down more we looked over the etiquette columnist. Perhaps that would bring more sobriety out from our shared hilarity. She read the query:

_"Dear Agony Aunt: Let me begin with the worst of it (You would well be advised to brace yourself). I am 19 and have not written thank-you notes for holidays and birthdays for about two years now._

_I'd like to make amends with my family members who sent me nice gifts that I didn't thank them properly for, but I'm not exactly sure what the right course of action is at this point. Do I just send out thank-yous for the gifts I received this year and try not to draw explicit attention to how remiss I have been in my correspondence? Can I apologize for not sending thank-you notes in the past?_

_I'd like to acknowledge what they sent me before, but I'm sure I've forgotten some of the things I've received (which is horrible), and I don't want to make it sound like I'm ungrateful by omitting them. I also don't want to make it sound like I'm asking for gifts in the future or try to furnish excuses (I don't have any)._

_I really just want to apologize, express my gratitude and move on, but I'm struggling to figure out how to do that."_

Victoria stopped to reflect and then looked at me, "You know, this is all sounding a little familiar."

I sighed, "Victoria, what _doesn't_ seem familiar around this estate?"

"True," she said, "but what I mean is, you and I have been doing a lot of work trying to get these memoirs accurate. On my end people are pretty grateful and help a lot, but it sounds like in the future you come from they don't know how to tell you."

"Okay," I said, "that's correct. Maybe the columnist has some good advice. What's the response?"

Victoria cleared her throat and began, _"Dear 19: You are not the worst. The worst are ingrates who, far from being repentant, try to cast blame on their benefactors for being so selfish as to expect any response to their generosity. In fact, your relatives have been especially generous in continuing to send you presents in the absence of responses."_

"Ah," I said, "that's a good point. I've definitely had people angry at me, mostly when I've shown alarm at their ruining my belongings."

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, a little desk, a pair of headphones… Long stories," I sighed, "Keep reading."

She continued:

_"Still, your record is pretty bad, and I am gratified that you are ready to make amends. You are, I presume, prepared to grovel."_

"Goodness!" I marvelled, then reflected, "well, that's likely a facetious statement."

Victoria winked and read on:

_"Your letters should begin with enthusiastic thanks for the latest presents, then go into high praise for their past kindness. For the past presents that you can recall, write specifically about how you have been enjoying them all this time._

_Then comes the self-flagellation. The important part is to refrain from offering any excuses. Claiming to have been busy, even with examples of the demands upon you, only annoys people. It prompts them to reflect that they, too, were busy, but made time to send you presents._

_Rather, it should be about how ashamed you are not to have acknowledged their warmth and consideration, which means so much to you. I understand that this seems a grim task. But I promise that you will feel better afterward."_

Victoria folded the newspaper and rested it between us on the planter. We stared into the woods, and listened to the waves nearby for a minute.

"Why is it so hard for your people to talk to each other?" she asked me, "I mean, you said there are all these wonders in the future that make it so simple to communicate, once you have the knack of using the tools."

"Well," I replied, "we don't all want to bother with learning how to use the tools for one thing."

She was stunned, "But why not? They can do so much good!"

"It's often been a puzzle to me, Victoria. I took the time to finally learn how to communicate with people better, but by that time no one seemed to want to talk to each other anymore."

"I can't imagine a world like that. With everything going on in this day and age, it sounds like it's just going to get worse."

"No, Vicky," I explained, "it _does_ get better in many ways. But it is very lonely and aloof much of the time. Everything people are doing in your time period to make the world better gets rather taken for granted in my generation. The nice thing is less people are apt to be outright rude _and_ in detail, but we haven't yet found the way to tell each other what's good about one another specifically. Especially," I had to heave a sigh here, "my own spouse. He reads books like he drinks water, but even he has a hard time really explaining what he enjoys exactly. I have to catch him laughing and then be sure to ask him before he forgets."

"Yes," she smiled, "I suppose it's much easier to hear it from someone in person. But from what you've told me, everyone is mostly using machines to connect and… in all of that time… well, they're not really connected at all. Those telephones you talk about sound awful, all static and no warmth?"

"Ah," I answered, "it's not just static, a lot of the words and sounds cut out. It's really muffled. I get the impression the people using them just pretend they can hear what each other are saying."

Victoria gave a laugh through her nose, "Sounds like how this place used to be."

"I know," I told her, "Still… I have hope. There is an intense amount of brevity, but perhaps I haven't found the right people yet to really tell our story to. It takes all kinds to make a world. Someone, quite a few people, I believe, are out there who want it and who want to discuss it and share what they enjoy about it."

"But," she asked, confused, "why do you want to stay here with us?"

"I want to see it through," I told her, "everything needs to be patched up and I need to find the way to describe it clearly."

"That's very sweet. Although… aren't there people in that future, in 2014, that you miss and that you love?"

"Quite a few," I confessed, "but they're scattered all over the country and some even across the pond, as they say. And they rarely make much of an effort to spend time using all those new inventions to let me know in return. So now, it's you and me, and these archives."

She took a breath, "All right. I understand. But… why here? Why us?"

"Well," I told her, "if I may paraphrase something that, in a strange way, you, Maggie and Josette told me almost two years ago…"

"What? How could all three of us say the same thing?"

"I think you'll get the gist of it, Victoria."

"All right," she said, "what did we tell you?"

"Like I say, I am paraphrasing and maybe adding something to it, but it's why I keep on here in this town. You see, for most of my life I've wanted a place where I belonged. A place where I could feel at home again… Feel loved again. And I found that place here at Collinwood… and with… you all."

* * *

_Now I understand I had to track down my true audience because they likely did what I'd done; hunted out what they wanted from 2007-2011 finding Anything-Goes, Alternate Universe and bits of good but mostly mediocre material that they neither enjoyed much nor gave them any relief. Having given up they had no idea I was here after that._

_Of course, in Alternate Universe there is always one thing that can happen; as a reviewer pointed out on a story I read: "I never can see how Barnabas, in canon, ever loving Julia, tho... I don't see it as in character for him." In AU? Sure. In canon? Nope._

_Yes, a rare time I did not review a story I read. She pretty much expressed it for me. Why bum out the person who wrote it even more?_

_I likely had a large audience of Anything DS readers who got lazy from the "lovely" new device technology with crappy keyboards and no real love of Barnabas' strong devotion to Josette Dupres, nor the need for Maggie to find herself and be paired with the most loving gentleman in Dark Shadows if given a teaspoon of a chance to find happiness. (Joe Haskell? Seriously? P'ff!)_

_But the beautifully devoted Helena wins all of our hearts for her appreciation of so many creators, her true adoration of Barnabas Collins regardless of most dames picked out for him and her ability to give selflessly in friendship and constructive-praise. _

_As for any old readers returning to my work who might claim no commentary came due to my spiraling into drunken ravings of angst after discovering how large the readership was for "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". I did ask very nicely for quite a while and ya just kept taking. After working my bum off since 2011, though having posted it 14 February 2012, well, what did you expect? _

_But the usual writers will often tell me, that's just the way fanfiction works. Nah, it's a DS problem. Even with much lower stat numbers in the other fandoms, The Ghost &amp; Mrs. Muir fans reviewed in a week and a half after I got "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" to them. The Addams Family fans? 24 hours. That was all it took. :)_

_As Julia Hoffman might, I'd get fed up with Barnabas Collins not showing me affection and go in search of people who did. _

_So with warm gratitude to my new readers and listeners, Pollyanna Whittier might tell me, "You looked for the good in Dark Shadows fans, and you found it, didn't you?" ;)_

* * *

_Rest In Peace, Rich. Thanks for introducing me to a percolator. And thanks for being a Dad when all I had was far too close to Jason McGuire._


	27. Chapter 26: Why Wadsworth Understands

_An evening in which Wadsworth confesses to certain dark troubles he encountered before coming to work for Barnabas Collins, explaining why he understands his relationships with both Angelique Bouchard and Josette Dupres. Also delving into how he recognizes the difficulties of Collinwood in general._

* * *

Chapter 26: Why Wadsworth Understands

One evening as my lovely bride was ascending the stairs, having kissed me goodnight, I was about to rest into my usual armchair before the fire and take a look into one of the many books I'd been aggrieved to miss over the centuries. I picked it up then put it down again as my ever faithful butler stepped into the room.

"Sir," he began, "I'm afraid the blood-pie experiment did not turn out so well."

I had to grin with some relief, "Ah, well. It was only a curiousity. Hardly my favourite dish in a bygone youth, my good man. What happened?"

"Mr. Loomis and I were reflecting on things and... well... got a little distracted. It is... rather _burnt_."

I tried to give a look toward him of his having been rather naughty, but he could see right through me, as he always does. He smiled back.

"It's good to know you and Willie get along so well."

"We've had a rather interesting acquaintance previously."

"I know," I told him, "and I was wondering a great deal about you as of late. If it wasn't for you, along with all of these strange events, I may never know the happiness I've so longed for. How is that you've come to understand us all so very well?"

His attentive stance relaxed and he placed his hands in his pockets , "The family history isn't as privatized as you all may like to speculate, Sir. I could read between the lines, and the gossip does flow rather easily here. It seemed to me you'd all been overwhelming yourselves with internal struggles. These would produce foul actions and more nightmarish displays of both vanity and revenge."

The silence at this point was so deafening that I almost didn't hear the crackling flames inside the hearth. Wadsworth had hit the nail on the head _again._

"Agreed," I finally said to him, "and how did you know how to accomplish what you've done?"

"I hardly did it alone, Sir. As I've explained to Mr. Loomis, can anything be accomplished by a single individual all alone?"

"No," I answered, "though there are many who have expected me to do such grand tasks."

"As our archivists know, Sir. Was that all?"

"No, Wadsworth," I answered, "I remember you mentioning an incident that happened to you many years before you came here. You'd fallen into some trouble of your own."

"Yes," he said, "I think you mean the incident in which I was blackmailed even earlier than before my... employment... at Hill House, so to speak."

"Yes. Did it not involve a previous lover?"

"No, Sir," he began carefully, "it involved a liaison I had in which I'd woken up from a heavy night of drink. Not usually my forte, but there was a rather great deal of social pressure to do so and a large number of people I was associating with at the time. I was given the impression that nothing untoward had occurred when I came-to in another lady's bedroom the following morning. It was a large house and a large party. Anything may have happened that I wouldn't have been totally aware of the next day."

"And then you went home?" I asked.

"Yes. My wife had been away on a visit and we shared our stories upon her return home. Quite a lovely time we had, she and I... As it happened, about ten months later I received an unfortunate letter. It was from the woman whose bed I'd lain in and had given me the impression I'd slept there alone."

"You hadn't, I gather."

"Not that she was telling me in this letter, Sir. No," he explained. "I began going into quite a lot of debt when I was sent the paperwork of my supposed son's birth. I wanted to do the honourable thing but..." he sighed, "I was against telling my wife until I could find some way to support my own dastardly behaviour, of which, try as I might, I had no memory of."

"That is excessively troubling," I sympathized, "and divorce being such a new concept to me I have a hard time imagining it. I would gather that you felt you ought to divorce your wife and marry this woman whose child you'd fathered."

Wadsworth took a deep breath and leaned against the doorframe, staring up, "As you remember the tale, I did make that attempt to offer such allegiance. Is it any wonder she wouldn't have me considering what happened?"

"I can't imagine. I confess to know little of these times I have missed sleeping so long in my ...en_chained_... state of existence."

"Of course, Sir," he reflected, rolling his head from the frame of the entryway and looking in my direction, "It all rather changed quicker and quicker as time went on and still does. As you know, I wasn't going to wonder who this wee lad was and she refused to accept me for a visit. So I took the paper work and went to the hospital to perhaps find more details of my son's whereabouts. I arrived and was seen to fairly quickly considering how busy a hospital can get."

He looked down to the floor, and taking his hands out of his pockets folded his arms before carrying forward, his eyes becoming slightly glassy as though a mist was about to cloud.

"What did they tell you?" I inquired gently.

He looked up with a sad resolution, "The paperwork had been forged. They had no record of such a birth and there were signatures on the document of his birth that were unknown names to them, as well as one that was familiar but obviously was not the doctor's handwriting," with this he paused to give a slight laugh, "it was too legible."

I hummed in commiseration over this sad joke in light of sour circumstances, "Did you ever discover why she had wanted the money from you?"

He did laugh a bit at this, "Oh, ha, the usual women's vanity. Clothing, furs, expensive jewellery. Material possessions that seem to give people the kind of comfort they can't take for granted when there are higher sources of joy in life, of course."

"I doubt I need to be told what those are," I expressed to my steadfast butler. Friendship, connection, the beauty of structure in both nature and by human design was what he meant. **Those things many take for granted, while others do not have them.**

"And so," he said, "when it comes to the incident with the young mistress Bouchard, I knew where you were coming from in some small regard. I was very grateful I could finally unburden myself to my wife about what had been happening. She knew me too well not to suspect something was bothering me, but I told her it was only a bad memory. When she heard the news she was very grateful that it had all been a petulant lie. And so was I."

"Still," I told him, "in comparison you hadn't been in that affair. Your conscience is much clearer than mine. I was guilty of my own passion as concerns Angelique Bouchard."

"Yes," said my good servant, "but for months... I believed I _had_ been as guilty and dishonourable. For months... to me... it was true."

I nodded in this commiseration we were now sharing, "I see. I suppose this sorry woman didn't return in any way what she'd taken from you?"

Wadsworth scoffed, "Ah! I didn't care at that point. I was happy to be rid of the whole problem and never hear from her again, nor meet her in polite society. Although we can all wonder how polite that society truly is."

"So you knew of how I felt," I said, stepping closer to him, "but of Josette? How did you know how I felt about her?"

He finally smiled, "Ah, Sir... Hadn't I told you? Mr. Loomis knows the answer to this one. When we were being blackmailed into working for our employer for free? She ended her life. She was put into a position she couldn't handle anymore. Like many of your family, and like the bride you hold so dear. I understand loss, Sir. And I understand loneliness. And many of the ones around you, who adore you while also tormenting you into dire situations, do **not** understand these things."

"Well," I said, "perhaps in their own way they do understand. I have so much of what I was so desperate for. If I didn't have my family or friends such as yourself and Mr. Loomis, along with the woman I love and adore above all others; I think it would have been best if _I had_ jumped off of the cliff. Suicide is not a rare thought to some of us."

"No, Sir. It is not."

I heaved a sigh, "Still, it is nice to see such wonders I was beginning to lose hope for. Especially with Carolyn's new business, along with that of her friend. I know writing and description can be a very difficult endeavour."

Wadsworth straitened himself and stepped back toward the door he'd come out of, "Well that is the nice thing about the madam from Schooner Bay. She has her sales to keep her going and she also has words of comfort from her readers, which I think helps her more."

"Yes," I said, "I believe when it comes to storytelling, knowing the approval of your audience and how they enjoy one's work is perhaps the largest reason to the creator of it. Without that, why go on?"

A knowing smile came to his face.

"Very good, Sir," said Wadsworth. Then he bowed and stepped out.

* * *

_I was touched when Wadsworth &amp; Barnabas shared this discussion with me. It's likely the most masculine piece I've ever put together. Still, what they discuss about Mrs. Muir relationship to her writing, taking luxuries for granted, and the suicidal contemplation should have easily explained to my readers what I'd been going through when I originally posted it months ago. I doubt that it did._

_Remember, in the theatrical release of "Clue" the different endings were spliced onto the main story depending which theater a person went to. Only in the video release did they claim Wadsworth really was Mr. Boddy. I have never believed it but it made a clever wrap-up. If that was the real story Wadsworth couldn't come to Collinwood and be so much help to us. Barnabas Collins and Willie Loomis especially._

_I adore Wadsworth's role in all of this. He is a man of service as Willie becomes in Dark Shadows, but is aristocratic as Barnabas always has been. Wadsworth is the perfect go between. I look forward to these three men spending more time together in "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". _

_However, Barnabas Collins will make peace towards Willie Loomis and their friendship on his own. :)_


	28. Chapter 27 Summary

Summary For Chapter 27: A Cleansing

_Yes... the excessively difficult bathtub chapter... of which I'm STILL not done... *sigh*_

_Why they wanted this is beyond my belief. It isn't the safest of things to do in the world and I would not suggest anyone try it unless you use extreme caution and amazing dexterity. It is interesting! I realized I could only get so far before I had to give it a try. I have a feeling I won't have this chapter done until I'm about to see the galley proofs for this novel. There are many times I see this in print in my mind and given to lovers on their wedding day as a gift. I think it would bless a lot of marriages as it's blessed mine._

_Remember, this is not our story, it's theirs. My husband and I have been inspired and our love has grown from what Barnabas and Margarette have shown us. I'd love to know if it's helped anyone else. (But you know us online writers, we can't read minds. *wink*)_

_In this chapter Maggie prepares a bath as her bathing quarters have been fixed and running water installed in the house. Even in some of the dangers of candles I felt it was more romantic to leave The Old House more or less as it was, but if people can't BATHE that's just atrocious.__ So running hot and cold water have been added. I presume it wasn't there before, unless you count LOOMIS HOUSE, which I don't. LOL!_

_Oh, if anyone remembers in "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" Sophia Petrillo took Adam home to Brooklyn for a job in manufacturing soap. I just love that he remembers his benefactors with these little gifts. They don't know exactly where Adamo Grisanti Terrenzio is but Maggie does appreciate these gifts from him. :)_

_And yes, this gives away a bit of what Mr. Loomis is going to be doing. But... Come on... it's a lovely place now, and yet... still spooky. I just *love* that Willie has changed so much to become what he is here and both designed and created Josette's engagement ring and their wedding rings._

_As I've got in my rough sketch notes:_

* * *

BARNABAS: From what I've seen, I believe you're competent enough to do this design work. Would you like to?

WILLIE: Yes, yeh... I think I'd like that a lot.

BARNABAS: Very good. I've given you the specifications and I trust you'll do them justice.

WILLIE: Thank you. I'll do my best, Barnabas.

BARNABAS: I know.

[steps]

WILLIE: You know... I never thought opening that coffin would lead to all of this.

BARNABAS: Who could?

WILLIE: Yeh... after it all.. I'm surprised knowing you would change me so much.

BARNABAS: Well, I suppose some bad things occur in order to give us better results, Willie.

WILLIE: Yeh... I guess so... I used to be so worried about what you did to Jason... but now... I'm almost grateful...

BARNABAS: Oh?

WILLIE: Yes... I understand now. He wasn't really my friend. And in all of our squabbles... somehow... you... turned out to be.

* * *

_And as my pen pal who's helped me so much with all of this work and the encouragement for it… she told me, of all the hurts that I'd healed and the friendships that I'd helped to grow from it… this one is her favourite._

_The other chapter I'm skipping is a slow moving one of romance and sensuality in which the two are enjoying gazing and wondering and growing and in their vampirism, discovering that they are beginning to speak telepathically to each other in this way. She can read His thoughts better than He can read Hers._

_I'd originally chosen them to be vampires in my other version of the story due to its sexy appeal… but now that I have thought it over, it makes even more sense. As Barnabas knows his Josette through both Kitty Soames and Maggie, there is a requirement that they desire at least three generations to make up for all the time they've lost. Maggie, as Josette, has the upper need in this as she had lived all those periods rather than gestating in a wooden box ad nauseum._

_And so in that chapter I'm skipping, she finds her telepathy skill as a vampire, and his bride, surfacing much quicker. As in my other version of this story she has the dominance, which is just as well. It's not like Barnabas would mind, would he? Coming from her? Nah. And since this novel gives much away as to what turns out in "The Pit of The Ultimate Dark Shadows"… who finally gives them this gift of sweet, not-so-cursed, un-blemishing vampirism?_

_Obviously: Cousin Lily! ;) And of course! I know it's a bit cheesy but from what I've seen online Lily Dracula Munster does entice sex-appeal from a great many fans. Lily doesn't bite Barnabas, though. Nope! She bites Josette. That way Josette can bite Barnabas, and so… he will always be under her power._

_But I *AM* open to more DS styles of suggestion to reach the same effect! It seems fitting enough for right now. That's the theory. A nice gift for their engagement. (If you've seen my photos of the trip to the seaside to pass around The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows postcards, you likely know where he'll propose.)_

_One bit I do love about this chapter is that Maggie can hear his heart beating all the way down the stairs. She knows he's entered the house. This is after she teases Wadsworth that he can't say Willie's first name and always addresses him as Mr. Loomis. That affords Willie a kind of respect no one ever gave him before. _

_After Barnabas reaches the room she tells him she didn't lock the door. Barnabas' quotes his line at The Coffee Shop in The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows, "Oh, don't worry. I just locked it myself." _

_*wicked grin*_


	29. Chapter 28: Forgiveness

Chapter 28: Forgiveness

_Pop? Do you remember something you once told me? I never forgot it. It was right after Mom died. The world is full of pain and unhappiness. But you and I can hold off as long as we stand together. –Maggie Evans_

_Dark Shadows, Episode 12 Written by Art Wallace_

* * *

It had not been quite so intense a night between Barnabas and I. We hadn't been looking through our journals of these days and nights together so recently, but of older things and what needed touching up in the family history. There was very little of my mother, Marie la Freniére and this is no surprise as I had no memory of her, at least in this life. Considering Pappa came back as well, I suspected the mother I knew in my current childhood as Maggie Evans was also the same. Then when I noticed she was still around and doing favours for us I was sure. It was she who had seen all of this and helped it to happen.

We found a few paintings with both of her incarnations, Pop and I jotting down details, thinking of her in either part of the whole equation. She must know what I had gone through, and likely was trying to help me see that again almost a century before as well as Nephew Caleb.

These thoughts left us as my husband and I lay in bed, simply drifting, to enjoy lying together. He held me and stroked my skin, moving our limbs to pursue a comfortable state of togetherness. Sleep came back and forth from this relaxation: Our serenity.

I remembered shifting about and I saw Willie leaning over the fire, placing two more logs inside the hearth for us. The dear, sweet soul. He was becoming more and more how Benjamin Stokes had been and likely became when his life improved as we all missed viewing it. A pale face beckoned Willie in the half opening of my door, waiting and stretching out her hand to bring him back to their quarters with her. He took it in kind. What a sweet-one she'd been. They shut the door behind them.

An hour or so after this I woke up in my night dress, put on my robe and noticed those newer logs on the fire. I drew myself down on the floor before them, folding my arms about my upturned knees, I stared into the flames. No phoenixes, no ghosts, just firelight.

"Margaret?" I heard Barnabas murmur from the bed.

"I'm here, my love. I'm here."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Bits of the past, as usual. The peace of the evening tonight. Ourselves."

"Hardly nothing, Josette."

I smiled softly, turning to look at him. He was resting on his side, his head on the pillow surveying me in that admiration I so often saw on his face. No other man in the world was for me. I wouldn't tell him to forget me. If he had truly loved another and not me I would have to let him go. That was in my nature. I could never be pleased or feel easy about it if it had been so, which managed to wreck me the first time around. I knew he was never in love with Angelique. Barnabas Collins had been terrified and deeply disturbed in his feelings of lust and being dishonourable to whom he believed himself to be. And, of course, it's made me love him all the more.

We also dealt with vanity. He wouldn't have me as a grotesque re-animation of my disfigured corpse. He wanted physical beauty and that is an understandable human quality. I'm not sure how I would feel if we weren't so preserved in this way by the blood. Thank heavens we don't require so much to survive. He's kept as pristine as he was before; a more youthful glow took hold of us both in this way. We appreciated it. After all we'd been through I can't imagine we don't deserve that added treat in our lives.

I looked into the fire... then I bolted! The sensation of fingers going up the right side of my back shocked me. There he was, my beloved, sitting beside me so suddenly. I had to let free a small laugh after almost screaming prior to it. "You still have that ability to scare me, Barnabas; Even with what we send within our minds."

"I meant to catch you off guard," he smiled in return, almost wickedly but happily, tilting his head to graze my lips. I returned his kiss, always so heartfelt and filled with such passion, mild at times and strong at others. So soft, so gentle, so many things I knew that he could be. So near as I had always wanted. To be Josette Dupres again, to awaken to myself as a whole, and to understand within myself all of who I was. Maggie Evans doesn't drop away in all of this. I fought so hard against my identity of Josette because it was so much a facade to him then. Neither of us recalled who I was. I could never be the fragments of china doll, the tiny fragments he could remember.

Josette Marie Dupres, that was who I was and who I am still. And I as Maggie Evans proved that to me as well. The interval as Kitty Soames was the sadness of our hearts. But toward myself I grinned. She lived within me and we would never let that go. "I must live my life as myself," I had shouted in the turbulence. And so I do. What I loved then lived again. Of course I would say yes to him, as I had always said yes, and happiness was a far greater luxury than all the jewels I left behind.

I felt his thumb beneath my ear... fingers wrapping around the back of my head, reaching under my hair. He had what he always wanted and it made him so virile and loving, and it was because of me. I kissed him, opening my lips to offer him what was within. A dab of tongue collected at mine. I thought of how this adoration in each other served to increase our desire, knowing the other was so rich in pleasure, and being so pleased because of oneself. It enhanced our feelings for each other in ways I could hardly imagine, not that I had to.

I'd hugged myself close but now unfolded and we stood up on our knees, some awkward, reaching, involved; the flickering of the flame's dancing light along his cheek, creating the darkened glow from his brows, the intensity in his hazel eyes. He loved me and I had no doubts. Facing this way, smoothly coursing our hands along and around each other, I burned with desire, feeling that grip of his fingers along my waist and hip, a slight dig with his thumbs into my pelvis which sparked even more longing. The muscles on his torso tensing as I fanned out my fingers along them, pressing and making his breath sharper as we remained locked together.

Our embrace tightened as we held each other in this upright kneeling position. Our lips released and I heard him exhale, "No more pain, no more torture. You are my wondrous beauty, all that I've sacrificed myself in my foul actions for, all that I've hated myself not to deserve. Just to be safe and with you."

"And I you," I told him quietly, "I've forgiven you, my dearest. And I must ask you..."

"Oh," he almost whined, "what can it be now in this beautiful moment?" He turned his head hoping to press his lips upon mine once more and I pulled my head back a little to stop him.

"Barnabas Collins? Have you forgiven... _yourself?"_

Our breathing halted and the fire crackled softly, our faces lit by it, his in a stunned look, not quite at me anymore but through me.

"I hadn't considered it... at all" he uttered, tilting his face again in that peculiar way of his, "and why should I?"

That's when I took his face in my hands, "Because I want these burdens lifted from you, _mon demón_. We've all come this far. Why not you?"

He stroked my hair, letting his fingers slide down my neck and around my collar, "I hadn't thought of my own forgiveness from anyone other than you. I have had my bliss and go on having it in your arms while you are in mine. This was what mattered and the realization that I could bring happiness to my Josette... after all of this madness toward _you_... Maggie."

"Your love was misguided, dearest Barnabas and when we are misguided we do wretched things we never believe and rarely understand. Even empty attentions. Silent omissions."

He released me from his hold and stood up, then took my hand and arms, helping me to my feet. "I've been in too much disbelief to want more than what I have now. But if you want me to take on this stronger task, I must ask you to lead me toward it, Maggie. My bride."

From along his neck, I let my hand drift down his bare chest, smooth, handsome, and treasure that he was to me and always must be. I knew.

Taking his hand I led him away from the fire. I began removing my robe then he helped to slip it off from my arms as we let it fall to the floor. What was left of his sleeping attire I removed, then kissed his legs, his hips and his torso as I worked my way back up to reach his mouth. As I did he pulled my nightdress up over my head and I raised my arms. As all was undone we embraced once more, his skin along so much of mine.

His arms came forward and my elbow bent and tucked between us, he took my hand and kissed it tenderly, then looked up into my eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

Stepping backward, I pulled him toward the bed. We crept beneath the sheets and it gave me a small amusement that I was taking his usual side of the mattress. He leaned himself higher on his elbow, stroking my face, my side, arm, bosom, and back to the neck again. He asked again, shooting a look of longing, "Josette? What do you want me to do?"

"Come back to me, my darling. Accept yourself as the gentleman you've become again. We all have The Beast in us. We all wrestle with similar struggles. Perhaps if you feel me in my forgiveness, you'll learn to grace yourself with it."

I felt down below. He needed a little encouragement but not that much and I caressed him to gain this, not only that one part of him, but all around it.

A dark, nervous utterance from this as his half-closed eyes beckoned into mine, "What do you wish me to think of? Or dare I ask, to believe?"

"Lie still a moment, my love," I told him and then gestured for him to turn so that his back was pressed against this little nest of ours. I went astride him and slowly came down as we shuddered with the change and the unity. I centered myself toward this hard swelling of my insides: One focal point, but not the only condition of us. As our bond grew in its impact, I slid down further and remembered his proposal, how he'd returned from the past again, how I saw his face and what he'd been through and the love I had... knowing he'd finally suffered it all and come back to me, whole, complete.

His hands slid down my shoulders, massaging my arms, sliding down further... withholding a moment to grasp at my breasts, but gently and then continued, stroking my stomach, my sides and back up, reaching me down to blend my lips with his again. Gliding our arms above as I leaned down, our hands coiled together on the pillows over his head. We clasped there, our fingers entwined, and our union became fulfilled. The momentum inside me was without comparison. An honour from him to me, as it always was.

How he loved me and how I understood that he did. The messages needed to come out now, I knew. As this happened I took what I knew and sent it to him, my thoughts, my feelings, and all I could of my forgiveness, urging him to hear it, see it, listen to it, let it become a part of him.

His kiss turned somewhat dormant and I knew it had reached his mind... but would it reach his heart? We became still, but breathing. It took some moments and I understood it was flooding into him. Then his kiss became more fervent and I thrust Barnabas further inside me with my movements, pulling and pushing, grappling his shoulders, or even the bedclothes, trying to break him free.

His answer? Almost a weep... almost for he is not prone to it, far too melancholy, as we all know Him to be. But now? I could hear his heart ache in the blessing. Sharing this experience with him, doing more than speaking but showing him how I felt with these new powers we held: Relieving something more than having the physical proof that we were together here. And his passion grew, the beat of his heart increased, his arms fastened around me, clenching mouths, the air from our lungs moving swiftly back and forth as we did... Turning so suddenly I wasn't sure myself how it happened. I was on my back now and he was above me.

Barnabas came upon me, urgently kissing me, holding me so tightly and bringing himself into me stronger than I could remember him doing before. He reached down to my knees, even in this request I knew he was getting used to some of my techniques and _wanted them_. I raised my legs and rested them gently along his backside. The motions continued and the kissing, the subtle breaths and moans between us. His lips were upon me, pursing along the midsection of my sternum, then suckling at my breasts again, one and then the other, driving himself further below as he nourished himself above and I enjoyed it with him. I ran my nails down the flesh of his shoulder blades as he and I inhaled so deeply and so quickly.

In all of the excitement I did my best to move my hips in a giving way, feeling his love for me all over and within me so deep, as if trying to reach himself all the way up into my heart. He pulled his face away from my chest and brought his lips to mine, our rhythm slowing, our breaths becoming calmer and I finally realized why this was happening. He's released himself inside of me... _and with that he had unburdened his soul._

I looked into his eyes and our cognizant images flooded me. The door opening, I standing there in my old costumes of bygone days, some recent. The waitress outfit he first saw me in, the purple dress in 1897 I so often wore, the masses of waves and curls that I had from even farther back. In my striped gown and I, opening the box with a "gift" that had terrified me so. _Ha!_ Such silly trifles of horror would never trouble me now. "A globe of the world," my Barnabas had said, "Someone has given us the world." _Oh, yes,_ I thought_,Now... we have that world._

His memories of seeing me when we'd stepped into each other's lives again and again, even a thought of another girl who resembled me and how he felt about her. The remembrances fled over and between our hearts and minds as he held himself aloft, even the thrush of air as we breathed exciting the skin along our cheeks. I could tell there was a small amount of perspiration on us, but in the low lighting it didn't show so well.

"Ah, Barnabas," I confirmed, as he looked down on me, "that wider smile I remember. That glad generosity. That's the man I know. A little surprise, the bare hint of glee, just the bare hint."

A curious wonder marked his expression as well as he remained above me, holding himself up to allow us space and air, but still within me, I could feel his pulse there begin to slow down. "Should I pull away?" he asked, letting a small seriousness creep back in.

"Not if you don't want to," I answered, "we're in this to share, if you recall. And I saw it all, Barnabas and how you feel about me. Neither of us need have doubts about it, anymore."

He fell to one side of me, slipping out and drifting his touch up and down my body in so many places.

"How did we accomplish all of this, my darling? Merely the two of us?"

I scooped him in my embrace, "Oh, Barnabas," I chortled, as Maggie Evans as I could say it, "you and I have lived a long, long time."

And then I held him in my arms so we could bless each other in this kiss.

My husband delivered one thought as we enfolded our lips, "Merci, Josette... Merci."

* * *

_A share of your thoughts makes all the difference. Peace._


	30. Chapter 29: An Unknown Conception

Chapter 29: An Unknown Conception

I leaf again through these splendorous memories I became so close to never expecting. What did **I** understand of joy after so much pain? My Josette had been torn away from me. Twice, although I did not know it until I ventured into a past world I had no knowledge of, but that I had skipped. Again, I was the anachronistic man, coming into the turmoil of my family through the centuries. How could it be we survived at all?

And I would think in each flash of finding my Josette, not for the first time, of course, but for the latter times I came in contact with her. In order to understand that this child becoming woman would have to venture through so much life and struggle to reach me over and over again. Her beauty never wavered and neither did my loyalty to her. I always recognized who she was or who she might be to me. But in these lives she would flitter and not know me, until it was too late... at least... those two times. But this last one, the third and the one that ultimately made the difference, knew. Let us not be lost again. We shall not be. I quote my darling, _"Our destinies are one."_

Knowing nothing of the rush in modern times, my matrimony was of all enjoyment. I hear of shuffling uncertainties and anxiety to weddings. For ours I knew none. I delighted in each detail. I adored them like a ripened berry on the vine, as the sight and touch of her always would be to my senses.

I tasted her at the altar of our sacred union. I stood in the clothing of our time, she stood in the recreation. Did this modern woman see my attire and wonder at it? No. She remembered. She knew. And all the horror our beloved people had gone through, there they stood at this divine ritual. They recognized, in the now of my family's own happiness, that to witness the two of us standing together in a sepulchral hold was the symbol of unity for all of us in our entirety. As we exited the chapel door my bride spoke into my ear, "They don't know, Barnabas, do they?"

Her white apricot cheek along mine, I whispered back in my smiling, coy address, "What don't they know, Miss Evans?"

"This isn't a town, my dearest, this is the threshold of our universe."

I stepped her closer to me beyond the frame of this doorway, "Oh, how I knew it was you, Josette. How I knew you had always been the pinnacle of change for us."

And, truthfully, I had.

Her hand rised and I clasped it in mine as she whispered to me, "Do you know what I'm looking forward to?"

"Tonight?" I uttered, hopefully.

"No," she laughed, "well, that, too. But our being friends, as we've begun to be."

I grinned at her gratefully, "I'll give you everything, my sweetness... all the games of cards, or reading together, of delightful dishes, songs, fabrics sewn to any lovely dress you desire... I promise I'll adore it all as much as I adore you."

With her lips she showed me what this meant to her, and she knew how honest I was; every single word.

Josette had once kissed me and pulled back in reprimand of my being too modern. Too modern for that time? What they now called Regency or Colonial? Why wouldn't I be? That was the whole purpose. I didn't want my bride for my own lustful circumstances. I loved her for more than that, to change this place and to change me. To change all of us. Even her own dear friend, Angelique Bouchard. She would do it in ways I never could. Josette _loved_ Angelique in ways I never would. In that sense I look forward to a future in which we could all be whole again, to be one. And **that** is why I love Josette Dupres... **and **why I adore Maggie Evans, the reborn continuance of her.

* * *

One night I knelt before our hearth with an unscrupulous novel. I couldn't read as I tried to in front of the fireside. Josette had leant me a book in certain wonderings if I would be pleased with it. I was not. I was worried to tell her. But she approached me and I confessed my worries while she giggled them away.

"I hadn't meant for you to read it if you didn't enjoy it." She confessed.

"I don't," I told her, "I only enjoy _you_, my dear."

"Hmmm," she laughed, "I believe you," she took the volume by Cleland from my withering grasp and set it on the mantel. Who would find it there after that... please let them be old enough to decide for themselves, I prayed. This Fanny Hill is not something I would want David to see.

She took my hands and I lifted myself from the kneeling position in front of our hearth. Fingers clasped, our lips met and she questioned me, "Do you want more from me tonight?"

Maggie was able to consent herself to me in this question and I had to answer, "I always want you, and if you want me I will prepare myself as quickly as I can."

A throaty exhale often greeted me in response as it did now, "Don't be so hard on yourself, dearest," here she stroked my cheek with the back of her fingers, "I doubt you sense what these wee hours could mean..."

Here I had to clutch her ribs and bring her further to me before letting go, "Tell me what you want and I'll pursue it with you, only tell me."

Her dancing brown eyes leapt between looking at mine, "You remember the candle I created, Barnabas."

"From the one Sarah made for you? Why did you re-make it?"

"The wick was troubled and the wax needed more work, so I re-created it and it's in my window, but I haven't lit it yet. I want us to go upstairs and light the rest. And _then_... that one her and I made together, of course."

"You smile, Maggie," I breathed into the chestnut tresses I adored, "but I don't understand why."

She wove her fingers from my shoulder to my neck and up into my hair, grasping my head in her palms and pulling mine towards hers, "I've had you for years now... but I think we're ready for more."

My lips found her forehead first in this desire as I continued along either side of her nose and to her lips, apprehending what she meant.

A child. Our child. Our love and the possibilities I finally recognized.

A sharp breath in me ladled that blue sea wave stirring under my heart. Hardly surprising her, my arm scooped up her legs, as I held her back in my other arm. My steps were cautious as I bore her up the stairs. Not a whisper of noise in our house now. The perfection of this moment allayed any worries. Her arms held fast about my neck and shoulders. Maggie remained still in her smile, knowing a careful tread needed to be maintained. Romantic as this was, to carry her like this on the staircase wasn't so precarious a manoeuvre, regardless of how indestructible we might be now.

As I lifted my steps upward, I grew for her below. What she desired was no concern when she introduced this idea for me. I knew her and she knew me, but in this way we might finally know each other in a more profound ecstasy if what she proposed was true.

I held her toward her room but the door was shut. She let a hand linger down and twist the knob to open her chamber. As we entered I asked if she want to be placed on her feet.

"Oh, no," she smiled, stroking me from ear to cheek, "turn around with me..."

I did and she closed the door with her hand, remaining in my arms, continuing to look into my eyes while locking this room. The key often was laid to turn where it should be: on the inside of her door.

And so it was done. Her arms wrapped around me again as I stepped toward that place, where I'd longed to have her for ages, and where she longed to be. I placed her to lie down, and I let my over laden apparel start falling away. It was when I was in my vest I could permit myself to begin removing her clothes; The slippers from her feet, the odd components keeping her hair in place as I kneeled down to kiss her. Maggie took my breath in a vacuum and as I relaxed I could feel air entering my being as she inhaled through me.

She refused to be docile, sitting up, feet dangling over her bedside to twist the buttons on my clothing. Not so feverish on this evening but determined. The sun had set long ago and as we became half clothed she led me toward the fireplace and brought me back to the ritual we'd forgotten. To take the sticks to light the candles, in all of how we were tangled from halving in disrobe. I watched as her trembling hand lit the wicks and then she gestured me to that one beside her window.

We combined our two flames to ignite that one, re-created from what her father and the ghost of my sister had produced. Even _my_ hands shook and as we lifted the smoking tinders away. She blew them both out. We stood. I could see the light from that candle in my periphery and I stared at her as we longed for each other. She took the stick from my hand and placed it side by side along the windowsill. I glanced downward and wished to lay beside her in the same way as those objects. Before that window we pulled more away to reach and expose more skin to caress.

In a side step, parting ourselves from that flame, the clothing continued to be undone, falling away with a grace I didn't expect. I was careful, as I often would be with my dearest love, to course my fingers along her skin, arms, clavicle, staring along each merest inch. I saw her do the same to me. What I knew of this life, this harmony of both marriage and promise. But she would show me again and again. Now she took my fingers in her hands, leading me to our nest. This time she wanted something new.

I turned my head to see the candle, the wisp of a thought... but one mustn't think of those things when concentrating on the sacred.

And so we bedded down together, as we had done for years, and I never took for granted. Each time we did this we renewed our vows from the altar, each kiss goodnight and awakening bespoke these pledges to our union. We'd existed too long without each other. To take it for granted would simply never do. But tonight?

Tonight was different.

* * *

Here was a readiness my father-in-law tried to explain to me in visits, as he tampered brush strokes with the colours on his palette and chortled odd interpretations to life I wasn't sure of. But I was pleased in his acceptance of me.

"Of course, old man," he expressed to me, in the love of his art, "I remember in those bygone days, just the same. We've come so long across a stretch of centuries for me to deny it. And I love you both far too much to let those things diminish. Besides... I'm alive once more, Barnabas, aren't I?"

"But I still don't understand what Sarah meant that night you brought her to say goodbye." I professed.

"No," he grinned back at me, "you don't."

* * *

From this recollection I returned to the present. I bestowed myself to her on the sheets in all nudity, nothing which we were ashamed of at this point, of course. I needed to express in my telepathic thoughts to her how I felt, now that they were a staple of our life together. To this she smiled and extended her own reflections to mine, "I've always been pleased by our joy and our love," and she slipped her arm around my underside as I slid in beside her, taking hold of her waist.

Her lips were the ambrosia I always craved and took in my mouth. Maggie let herself speak to me in this meeting. My urges grew in the obvious places, hardening... the ripened knowledge of her exposing itself to me. The purpose should have been obvious, but I'd spent too much focus on what she was to me and always had been. Josette had cared about my forgiveness and not only her forgiveness of me, but my own forgiveness towards myself. I would never know how to thank her more than I was doing this night and so many nights before. Was it her pleasure that was so important, then my own, or ours combined? When it comes to marriage; perhaps that was the highest question of all.

I smiled toward her, "What would you like most of all tonight?" I pondered, already placing my hand to her breast as I was no longer afraid to touch her anymore. Not that I stayed there, I was craving all of her enshrined parts.

Images floated into my mind, not a technique we used very frequently, the words had proven more tender than pictures. A blend of anatomy she had preferences for, parts of her being for which there were no names. Lowering myself I folded my hands over her thighs and gathered my lips along her leg, going further down and reaching her toes. She'd breathed in loving gasps but this last part made her giggle slightly. After all this time, could it be she was still ticklish? Or was it more a noise of things to come, echoes of precious sounds an infant might utter?

I questioned our ability to enact this ritual to its end result. We had to _desire_ a new being into this world to bring it forth. In all the years we'd shared there had been no "accidents", if one could call such creations thus. All must be done with combined willingness, an intention.

My torso was between her legs and I'd lain myself over her womanhood to kiss her stomach, _bless it_ as it were, course my way up to massage her ribs and down again, she took my head in her hands, weaving her fingers through my hair and caressing me behind the ears. I rested my cheek on her indrawn abdomen. _Let what I endow here give us our little one back, and in doing so, give Sarah the chance she never had; to grow and become a woman herself._ This was my prayer.

I could feel Maggie's feet, knees, legs moving to favour the skin at either side and I lay there, so low. She'd shown me absolution; sending me her own feelings as I'd sent her mine. Part of me wanted to relax there forever. But the surge was growing stronger below me. Would something so intimate between us bring back a beloved face, a name we hadn't spoken in address for however long it had been? Would she, my sister, perhaps my daughter, be the same?

"And more," my Josette breathed in answer.

My hands came down from her flesh to the bed. Bringing myself above, Margaret's feet rested on the mattress. Her invitation was moist and smooth as she allowed me entrance. Gentleness in her kiss released itself to my lips, the trickle of her fingers along my ribs and breast. I lifted myself within and a gasp opened her mouth wider in awe. Would it ever be different with us in this room we finally shared? I wondered this too often. It was the harsher days we faced together, the simple joys from all our delights in this world. The nights and events would vary, rarely being overwhelming of sorrow. Walks, novels, conversation with our family, the sharing of opinions and ideas, replacing old structures. In the end it had made our love so much richer, stronger, the proof of all we were.

And now, could it be _this_ rich? Something far beyond monetary wealth was our being in each other's arms. My love for Margaret Josette Dupres, making love _with_ her, our wedlock finally arriving: Could this return another family member to us? One who'd helped by crossing the veil, but soon might be of flesh again as we could make?

The passion increased as did my reaching to her depths, her eyes half closed and a soft smile containing this wonder with me, except she was more confident, tasting me in return with her answer. Maggie wasn't convinced _tonight_ would deliver a new joy. But she was certain a number of nights in the same concentration of it would allow bringing this to us.

No flashes of our lost Sarah entered in imagery, but the spirit and the love was enfolded around our hearts. I could feel this, holding my dearest to me, her throbs in time with mine as our chests were so close together. Motions of our unity continued to constrict and expand. Her mouth the fascinating pleasure it had always been in each life I'd relished her before. Josette had always kissed me with savour. (Although once, with a blush.)

I'd tugged at her shoulders to bring her closer after each movement away, not to thrust myself with overbearance into her, neither with subtle gentleness. My hand slid down from behind her to fondle the flesh below and around her bosom, not upon it. Then the sensation struck me, what she felt in her excitement, even as her breathing changed, moans reaching my ears. The thrill of seeing her gratified in expression, teeth parted slightly, but revealed. The sounds of her pleasure as we joined and rejoined with rapture, but to **_feel_** something I'd done to her was to conjure disbelief. _How far could we share?_ Was this a sign of achieving our intention: To conceive a child together even if we'd never done so before in all the experiences of ardour?

I continued to rock with her slowly and allowed myself to feed again on her breast as I'd learned not to fear, but the shivers came to us both. It was a way of bonding mutually, inside and out. Not a torment, nor an agony; an adoring world within us to continue to engage in, both in this act and in its memory. Tomorrow we would know this occasion again in thought while others dubiously considered our expressions.

We progressed upon one another, merging, but neither gently nor voraciously, with tenderness that showed both thrill and calm release. Our breathing gained in emotion and I could hear a familiar sound from her. Moving my hand down to her inner thigh and feeling up, closer and closer until I found that collective in between to massage it, my mouth still compelled to her chest.

My precious bride was almost released to highest elation as I brought _myself_ nearer to that as well. Compressing together, I let go and found her lips again, moving my hand to the other side of her chest and gripping firmly. More than sampling now, we engorged upon our lips, tasting one another, sharing our insides. I became so submerged I had no choice in what happened next.

Hastily, Josette pulled back with a gape and took in the air, but her voice was neither silent nor loud, simply astonished, as was mine. The zenith had been reached... and simultaneously which was a more tenuous occurrence than most might speculate. **This** did not happen frequently for us, not at all.

Was this lack of climatic culmination a disappointment? No. Allow us a winsome smile at the very idea. For true-love is a harmony, as I've discovered, that once it's found and explored such an objective becomes meaningless. The time spent, the factor of having this love, is the idyllic world her and I live in. This is why our story began with the wedding. Those who feel they've conquered an end result in marriage will find unhappiness. Cherishing the dream of an ever-lasting now is its purpose.

Maggie's hands drifted up my arms and down from my shoulders, cascading her fingers along my chest, and suggesting release. I laid on the left of the bed, but held her kiss still, moving slowly out of her below. Her hand reached to mine where I held her nurturing softness above... then our lips parted.

"I love you, Barnabas, I love you."

"And I love you, Margaret, as I've always done."

She smiled in her exhale, "I felt I had to say that first before any other words were spoken."

"Why, do you suppose?"

"Because if we succeeded tonight I wanted those words to be our resolve in all of this. I wanted love and not pleasure here, as much as it hardly needs to be spoken, I know."

I was on my left elbow, leaning over to look upon her, my hand finally shifting from her breast to her face, my thumb gliding along it's smoothness, "No, it does not need to be spoken, Josette, but to say it holds gratitude as well. We have more than a need, you and I, we have a precious devotion to adore the changes life brings but cling to past wisdoms."

"That would make sense, My Heart. Across the ages we dared to hope and to believe and be alive at last. To ask for help from all of these new friends and old relations... Barnabas... your longest journey so empty, and mine so filled with variations to overwhelm."

I clasped her right hand in mine, "That would make us similar, but not too similar that it wouldn't work as it's done so beautifully." I kissed her again, drawing away with this curious but somber question, "Do you believe you conceived, Maggie?"

* * *

She didn't answer... not until the next afternoon... seeing that the candle on her windowsill had burned itself out.

"Yes, Barnabas," she observed with a bewildered look, "I believe I did."

* * *

_All right... now if **THAT** doesn't deserve some crazy insight/reviews/commentary? I don't know **WHAT** does! ^_^_


	31. Chapter 30: Proof Positive

Chapter 30: Proof Positive

_"Kitty, I know how frightened you are but you must believe this. I would never do anything to harm you. "_

_"Can you say as much for her?! … No, you can't! Because you know that both of us can't live. And if I stay here it'll be as Josette Dupres, a girl who died 100 years ago! That's why you've got to let me go—LET ME GO!"_

_"To go among strangers? Where no one will love you as you or Kitty? Or Josette? No. You must stay here and let me help you."_

_"Help me?"_

_"Will you marry me? ... Does that idea terrify you, too?"_

_"No… no… it doesn't, I… I understand somehow that… that's what I must do. **Whoever **I am…"_

_"Then you will marry me?"_

_"Yes."_

_"When?"_

_"As soon as possible."_

_"I'll arrange for the wedding this evening."_

_"Yes! This evening!"_

_"Wait here… until I return-"_

_"NO! I'm afraid."_

_"There's no reason. No harm will come to you here."_

_Barnabas Collins And Kitty Soames_

_Dark Shadows, Episode 884, written by Violet Welles_

* * *

I was lying in bed after some detestable dry-heaves. Truly, I believed accepting this new life as an immortal being, however easier in this form than we'd learned of most, would at least leave me in a happier state if I ever became, what our friend Julia was giving us the news of.

"Would you like the good news, Maggie?" she smiled as she took a seat next to my bedside, Barnabas standing close with his hand wrapped around mine.

"Good news would certainly be better than the sickness I've been feeling," I told her with some exhaustion.

"Well," Dr. Hoffman breathed, her teeth shining brightly through her happy expression, "if plain old human tests can tell us anything about this, you are... with child."

Barnabas squeezed my hand and I squeezed it back, but I had to give a throaty laugh, "Oh, I had _better_ be! I'd hate to think I'd gone through all those dry heaves for nothing, Dr. Hoffman."

"Congratulations, Josette Dupres," Julia said looking down and looking up again, "You're about to bring another Collins into this world."

"Ah," my husband uttered, "not another, I'm sure. But one we've known before."

Dr. Hoffman's face dropped from cool breeziness to promote confusion. Plenty of that has been seen in my bedroom, I'm sure.

"What's that, Barnabas? You don't want-"

"Dr. Hoffman," I explained, "she won't be only a Collins and she won't be new."

Her hair seemed to become a more brazen shade of red. That peering, almost wince like look pinched her face, "What are you talking about? You two are looking very knowingly at me and at each other. You can't know who this child is going to turn out to be already!"

"But we _do_, Julia," Barnabas told her, "we've known from the night we conceived her. It will be... Sarah."

Dr. Hoffman almost scoffed, but was much gentler than that, "OH! Now I've heard _everything!_ Did I really go through all of the trouble to make sure the tests were accurate at the hospital only to have the both of you know all along what was going to come of it?"

I smiled, happy now at her confusion, "Not it, Dr. Hoffman... Her."

Dr. Hoffman stood up, analyzed the carpet and then looked at us, still holding hands, Barnabas standing, I lying down, "Well, considering it's **you,** Josette Dupres Reincarnated, I suppose you have the knack for interpreting life with the type of method to make it come out just the way you prefer. I sure wasn't clear what on Earth was going on when I instigated that regression therapy and brought you back to us."

"It was the right thing, Doctor Hoffman," I winked, "believe me."

She laughed and folded her arms, then looked at my husband, "Barnabas Collins... you must be feeling more joy than you ever expected when you came into this century."

"I do," he admitted, letting go of my hand and walking towards her, "but it's much more wonderful to have it by allowing it to reach me, than forcing the issue as I'd gotten used to doing. Finally receiving my bride and my little one back to me? I could never ask for more... but," he took her hands, "having good friends to add to that joy can't harm it, can it?"

Dr. Hoffman blinked and smiled again, "No, it can't."

Then they embraced and it brought such a lift to my heart that my previous nausea had virtually disappeared. They released and as Julia Hoffman bent down for her handbag a clink sounded on the carpet. Barnabas bent down to pick up what had fallen.

"Ah," he grinned, "your engagement ring, Julia? You don't want to lose that... do you?"

She took it from him with a fine smirk, "Hardly. I suppose I should get it re-sized."

"Why not have Mr. Loomis do that for you?" I suggested, "He still puzzles why Professor Stokes hadn't hired him to create it."

"Oh," Julia simpered, "he had his chance to make the wedding rings and he was too busy. And Willie's been told time and again that my Eliot wanted to keep the whole thing a surprise. There are more than enough big ears around here to have spoiled it. But... I never told him I wasn't all that surprised when he proposed. I was easily able to hide that with my elation at his timing."

"Well," Barnabas brought his chin down, "see Willie before you leave and ask him to re-size the ring."

"I will... that and re-sizing our professor's ring as well. He's gotten quite trim these days."

I could imagine what activity that came from but I kept it to myself and told her, "Still, we're glad you kept your name in doctorate, Julia."

"Well," she expounded, "I sure as hell wasn't going to go through altering every diploma I ever earned for the sake of being more Stokes than I already am. I've come to understand that part of my strength has always been in being a Hoffman, maiden or married."

"I often felt that it was," my husband admitted.

"Thank you, Barnabas. And Margaret Dupres... thank you. I can see where keeping a last name, or in your case, reclaiming one is of richer wealth than diamonds. I suppose other women feel that way about assuming the name of the husbands they marry."

"But you are happy, Doctor Hoffman, aren't you?" I asked, in quick concern.

Julia coursed the strap of her purse around her hand to dangle by her elbow and turned to me, "Oh, yes, Maggie. You know... Eliot does this little thing I adore. He doesn't kiss me on the cheek or the ear but this spot in between... Something there tells me that Eliot knows me more than I ever hoped a man could," she faltered and made an attempt to scoff at her swift approach at this revelation, "I suppose it was bold of me to confess that so openly."

"No," I almost exclaimed, "no... Julia... it's very sweet, and not half so much because... _I know_ what you mean."

Dr. Hoffman nodded with a smile and began stepping to the door. When her hand reached the knob she faced my husband again, leant down her chin and looked up, "Barnabas? I know you will show the utmost care... but since we're all here in this room there is something I can safely express to you both. If you thought you had passion before, you ought to watch out. A pregnant wife has far more sensitive urges than you can possibly imagine."

My grin was visible but neither of them were looking at me. Dr. Hoffman and I were looking at Barnabas. His face fell in both consternation and awe. He was worried, and lost between misgivings and wonder. After all we'd achieved, what heights of glory could be suspected on this deeper level? I subdued my inner laughter and wondered myself. I felt my nausea subsiding and... I knew she was right.

Dr. Hoffman opened the door, exited and when the door shut, Barnabas stepped forward, turned to me, holding the railing of my bed as if for support.

"Did she mean that, Josette?" he queried, a fair concern making his voice quaver slightly.

"You're asking if it's true, my dearest," I answered, "as far as I know it is."

He looked down, "I have fear," he confessed, "With how far we've come... I don't want to hurt you, or her."

"You can't, Barnabas," I comforted, "and you won't. You... my dear... are a listener when it comes to our family. You care about people. Deep down you always have. We know it will be thankful and precious from now on until my time is close. We know you mustn't be afraid. We love you. And you love us. You always have..."

His look became a questioning twinge, "Maggie, why do you keep saying 'We'?"

"Oh," I smiled, "I'm speaking for your daughter and I."

Dark lashes blinking, his hazel eyes widened and a display of strange delight opened his features. Standing over the bed he looked down and questioned, "What would you like right now, my beloved?"

Much had been overcome as I digested the news I understood to be true already. What would I like right now, he'd asked? I answered truthfully, "You."

He knelt before me, my hand in his and asked, "My bride? May I lay with you?"

"Please do," I answered, instant but gentle, "Please lay with me."

Barnabas rose and went to lock the door, walked back to stand beside where I lay and removed his attire, placing each particle of it aptly over a nearby chair. I recognized the swiftness in his movements again, which was unique in more modern clothing. More elegance in his fingers and less fidgeting as many who live now tend to show. I moved over and welcomed him as he brought himself beside me, wearing nothing. He often did this for me. I once found it strange, but then I discovered... when it came to me... he wanted no hold barred between us. (And, of course, I'd lost my nausea. So this surge of desire came naturally.)

Laying beside me, the sheet wrapped over us, the evening sun waning in its light and the candles having been lit by him earlier, we had all the shadow and luminescence we needed. The back of his hand glided down my arm and reached my abdomen as he stared and said, "I wish to harm neither of you... my wife, nor my child... are you... sure?"

I had a very brief, but joyful giggle at this idea. I wasn't near so far along, this was the beginning, "Of course, I'm sure... you won't believe me to be... unattractive in the future... will you?" I told him this with my own self-assurance.

Barnabas was lifted on to his elbow now, stroking me, my torso, breast and stomach, looking and imagining a bulge that could not yet be seen.

"Maggie? Unattractive... to me?" he inquired lightly, and then looking at me and answering strongly, "**_Never_**... my love... _never_. Is that what women fear when they are with the child of the man they love?"

"Sometimes," I nodded, "but I with you? I quote you, Barnabas... never... _never_."

He brought his hand to my raised knee and then ran it's smoothness up my thigh, under my nightgown and to that place above my thigh he'd massaged so many times before, then finally, he massaged me right where I would someday give birth to our child. I leant my head back on the pillows and extended this pleasure in humming moans. He was looking at me for my responses, I was sure. I could sense his enjoyment of them. Rare had been the time he'd touched me there with his hands.

Barnabas lifted this hand under my clothing and glided up across my navel, between my bosom, reaching for my neck and I had no fear. He would never strangle me again. Now his touches were serene, delicate, tender... and as he coiled me there in his fingers, he brought his mouth to join the flesh of my throat. As he kissed me along my neck and clavicle I closed my eyes and saw this same unity almost a year from now. His fascination and curiosity over where I was growing; Knowing the spirit of who we were welcoming to find us again: The spirit of his sister, our daughter, our child. The one who had taught us so much about trusting, about loving and being good. And now she was growing within me.

Sarah would be reborn... as **_I_** had been.

I kept breathing slowly, trying to keep from releasing too much noise. Then I glanced toward the door and remembered he'd locked it. Barnabas was so determined about that when it came to me. He always had been. His doing that before had frightened me. Now I adored it.

These large but delicate hands worked to remove what I was wearing and I raised my arms up to help him. My clothing slipped along and over my head as he pulled, lifted away my gown, and we were together again, skin to skin. But his caution continued to allure me. I asked him, "Are you are afraid of _me_ now?"

"No, Kitty," he called me out of turn, "you remember, I told you I would not let you go unloved as yourself, nor as the woman I hold dear, as far as you've come," his hand held me by the chin, "Do you remember my promise?"

My lips turned upward, unveiling my bliss "I've always remembered how hard you tried for me... my confusion ended long ago. Who would love me as Kitty or Josette or as myself?"

He'd cupped my jaw line to reach my lips and I welcomed this, opening my lips to his, sharing that soft and supple tasting of our flesh, and then the longing turned more extreme than I'd known before. I heard his thoughts receive this, knowing what I wanted... oh yes... how could he not be so perfect a father now that we shared communication beyond heart and mind? Barnabas would be all too aware of what I was going through in this experience. He was already an empathetic man, and now that empathy had grown.

Having slid in bed beside me, Barnabas lay there staring in the awe that never broke, gently gliding his hand down my neck, my center, almost floating over me, my yearning for him increased. The stroke of his fingers searching, exploring and releasing that shiver from me I'd cherished for years. Again he coursed along my abdomen which showed no visible signs but we knew...

Coming back to my head, our breathing in sync, detailing our desire, Barnabas exhaled by my ear, "How I adore you and will always adore you. All my life I wondered if the gloom of this place could change and with the right soul bring its beauty out. Sarah came in to show that it could. Then you arrived, Josette, to show that it would."

My eyes were closed but slowly opened to meet his. The dark curve of his brows, sooty colour of his lashes, so close... I touched the hollow of his cheek and said, "But it took one man to see those necessities and want to bring them together for a better place. And that man is you; Barnabas Collins... my dearest love... that man is you."

Our kiss became intense, but I could hear a moan of wonder and gratitude from him. Someone noticed beliefs he was never allowed to express, so often put down as dismal and greedy. The plights of suffering and being unduly used by others; this is what creates such wastefulness in life. Now his true self, in all of that grace and kindness shined through. His happiness and my happiness combined... and would extend to a new life that once upon a time had given joy to us both. Returning the favour was no hardship.

I shifted further and as I brought my leg over his hips he took me by the waist, asking, "Is this all right now? No harm... we've agreed."

I brought myself over him entirely, "No... And with what's happening now? How much longer will I manage to accept you this way?"

Barnabas took my hand to kiss, let go and I watched him enjoy the sensations as I moved to manoeuvre him inside. Now there was a solemnity which gave us both caution and perseverance. No longer were we combined as two, but in a love that was bringing forth the yearning for a lost one. In this experience I likewise was careful not to allow too deep a penetration, but I found my desire growing as I pressed and re-pressed him inside, using my knees to balance all of this and lying forward to reach for his kiss.

My hair fell around his face. His hands cupped my head below the jaw, and such tingles reached my throat as his fingers crept in there. I thought of all the confusion made clear... in each of these lives I'd known him and all of what he wanted was me... but perhaps he needed to know...

"Barnabas," I asked, continuing to pull and push myself towards him, gliding my fingers under his shoulders to hold and using this leverage as he'd used it on me, "do you know how much I love you? And do you know why?"

Barnabas scooped his hands down from my sides and took my ribs, helping us to pursue each other, "You've told me many a time and though I've been afraid to believe it, come what may, I **do** believe it."

As I kissed him again and drew away, I was curious, "Why afraid?"

A flash came into my mind of a time that he brought himself closer to sitting when I was above him... I could see in his thoughts he was compelled to want this, but too caring to do it now: So precautious, as he'd often shown to be. Instead he held my head and as we continued to feel each other he made these utterances at my ear,

"Too many have wanted me and never heard, too many have made me curious but not enough... and all I wanted was you... and all you could achieve... all _we_ could achieve. My hopes were so high that I've feared you to fade in the many mists you have in the past. My cruelty, my truth to think perhaps one day I would know what we were. Oh... We have that now and,"

Here he allowed himself a thrust but not too forceful. I shuddered and we halted as Barnabas took my hands to his chest and continued to tell me,

"I can't let you go, Josette. I won't let you go. But the uncertainty of over a century still lingers in the shades of fear within my heart. Each day and night I welcome you to me, always having wanted you for yourself through all of my misguidance and now..."

We writhed and kissed, I touched his body and he touched mine. I could almost hear the thoughts that were coming, but as our lips pressed together, through to the infinite, the echoes of his voice were what made his declaration in my mind,

"And now, you're bringing forth one who was so dear to us again... in your body and through our marriage..."

Our lips parted, and Barnabas spoke this in his voice, "How could I not know how much you loved me through these acts? You've blessed us in giving all of who you are, Josette Dupres... your sacrifice to us as Kitty, and now doing it all as Maggie Evans?" Here I stopped moving above him, looking down at his head on the pillow. Barnabas reached my face to hold in his right hand, "It's all too wonderful not to fear. My beloved, Margaret Josette Dupres."

The sun had set and the darkness crept in, candlelight glowing to my right. Reaching down to kiss him, I straightened my legs to ease the pressure below. We shifted and turned about, quickly but carefully and although now he was above me he showed that same care and attention. As we continued, breathing, kissing, his elbow resting beside me, he fanned the back his fingers across my cheek. What he managed below had brought me to my needs. I let go with a hollow gasp. Staring up at the canopy I found my elation. Slowing down, I felt the release turned down my head and looked at him.

His stare was attentive, watching me for signs of enjoyment.

I pulled myself back toward the headboard, resting on my own elbows to see his face, shaded on one side.

"You've stopped. Don't you want... to..."

My question faltered and I felt his grasp on my arm, "No," the hint of a smile, but more serious than anything else, "I just want to look at your joy... and allow myself to understand... that all of this... is real."

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed. Let me know if you did below or elsewhere. Remember... these two can read each other's minds now... but none of us doing this work can read yours. Thanks._


	32. Chapter 31: Willie Protests The Midwife

_In The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows there is one particular implausibility I'm hoping to sort out, which is why a usually untrustworthy character is mentioned unexpectedly for this chapter. Please remember this is the end result of what I hope will be a very lengthy radio series. The weaving of both novel and series or one end meeting __**this**__ beginning is what I'm struggling to achieve. It's also why I'm looking for help and more than simply applause. "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" is about working together, after all.:)_

* * *

Chapter 31: Willie Protests The Midwife

"Gin", my darling said, pulling forward to place down the proof of her win. She shifted to the side to do this in some awkwardness as her belly continued to grow.

I had to look at that set of spades and hearts lined up so neatly in her fan of cards. I dropped what I had to the table and was grateful to rise and sit next her on the davenport. When we played games of this nature my main qualm was not being allowed sit beside her. _Always_ I wanted to touch her, and now that this round had ended I was finally allowed to wrap my arm about her shoulders and bless her cheek with my lips.

Looking down, I loved this growth on my bride, I adored how well things were coming to fruition. I could hardly believe after so much loss... all was being regained through the relief of the reborn. I had to go through so much alone. Now my sweet love was re-awakened and someday the precious sister I loved would be in our arms, and as the daughter I had often had to view her as... when my father could not.

Josette as Maggie dazzled me constantly with her warmth, her kindness and even now in this stage of things, her desire. So many have seen me as in love with being in love; it's not uncommon a dwelling of the heart. But in my bride I saw the hope for a better future. Time continued to move by clock and calendar. As many a wide trouser cuff walked across our gardens, and the altering patterns of the world increased toward designs I didn't understand nor concerned myself with much. I must be glad that Maggie and I remain within the healing and classic elements of Collinwood.

Even her style and bearing blended in all of who she had been and was now. She fancied a dress high in the waist and ample in the skirt, which was likely to show that she was in a "delicate" state of being, but she let me know she was happy wearing such clothing again as it reflected the high waists of the time we remembered. Josette had told me it was fitting to lapse into even a reproduction of the period in which we'd both been raised.

"Not only that," I agreed, approving of her maternity attire, "it fits you _well_."

However we do face the fact that we are the only ones consecrated without our physicality changing too much. The rest of our family has a few more wrinkles and our beloved David has grown to be a fine young man of tender years, but they accept us and we accept ourselves in this unity of all things natural, supernatural and blessed.

David, too, was eager about Sarah's birth. He missed his friend and he had said to us the other day, "I was always so horrified by what happened here. Sarah helped me to understand all that had gone wrong. I don't care how long it takes, Cousin Barnabas. I want to see her again. I wish we were the same age in all of this like we were before when I knew her, but I am so grateful that she's coming back. I believe what you tell me is true. However much you scared me, however much I was a pain in the neck to everyone, it's wonderful we can be more than family now. We're friends... and I want this friendship to grow. And with inheriting so much I'll do whatever I can to make sure your remaining on the estate isn't trifled with... I swear that."

These thoughts left me and turning to Maggie, I touched my dearest, two as one now.

Our hands met, she resting her elbow on the back of the furniture and I cascading my fingers throughout her arm, down her side to reach the harmony of this child growing within her. I loved my family so deeply, I worked hard throughout all of my curses to guide and help them. I've had to journey through realms of time I'd missed to see so many of them living out terrors I had enhanced by one mistake of weakness in lust. For so many this is a forgivable error, but our end result caused so much pain, and here we were rectifying it all and living in solace.

I loved this increase of beauty on Margaret Josette Dupres, a bulge I remembered on my mother but rarely saw. And not only that I was fascinated by it. Even now Sarah was meld of each other into a delightful formation of lost spirit to be rediscovered, to live a longer, fuller, richer life. What a marvellous young woman Sarah would become at last, enjoying all of her old play and any new creations of interest that didn't exist when we were all alive... together... before.

My fingers fell over this roundness of being on my beloved wife. She was giving me not only all I'd ever wanted but all that had been torn away from me in my agony. And so many had invalidated her wisdom and ability because of her beauty, and for this beauty she must be lacking in intelligence. No... when I saw Josette Dupres... when I longed for Kitty Soames and when I recognized the potential of Maggie Evans, her beauty was only a reminder of the love in store for me and the adoration of diversity she could find in us all.

Maggie startled for a moment and I leant toward her in concern. She relaxed and smiled, "Did you feel that?"

"You moved so quickly, I wasn't sure. Did Sarah shift?"

"Oh, yes," she smiled, "I was enjoying your touching me... but I think she was saying 'Hello'."

I kissed my bride on the ear. _Hello._ How often had we all heard Sarah say that?

Maggie turned, resting her left hand over my right and our fingers spread across this beauty we'd endured and intended. Her own right arm slipped about my shoulders and as she grappled, our lips met with a certainty of appreciation and dearest affection.

Steps echoed down through the doorway as we withdrew from each other to look over. Rustling his frame off the stairs, the sandy blond locks shook on the head of our jewellery-thief turned jewellery-creator. Willie stepped forward.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No," we both said sitting upright and turning.

"I managed the resizing of rings for Julia and the Professor a while back. Then I had some left over metals I was fiddling with. But I had this hankering to ask y'ez about something."

"Ooo," blinked my bride with eyes opening wider, "I haven't heard you lapse back into your old accent enough, Willie."

Willie snickered, "Aw, yeh dig that, Maggie? Well I ought to let it hang out more often. [Jackie] says she likes it... Anyway. I was looking over this mother's ring idea... and... I don't know... are you planning on having any more children after Sarah?"

"Oh," my Maggie answered, "I don't think so. We're not even sure how she will turn out. We're hoping she's... well, you see... mortal?"

More snickering came out of our chosen godfather, "I just love how we can discuss these things so casually around here. I was toying with this idea, though. Perhaps a mother's ring... you know? With the birthstone of the child? I can't create it until she's born but I was thinkin'... oh... I've been so swamped with orders and fix-it jobs. I just wanted to do something for you two again... and of course for her."

"That is marvellous, Willie... and so heartfelt. I love it."

"Yes," I raised my chin, "adorn my lovely with jewels..."

"_Barnabas_," she scolded in an elongated tease, "No... I do not like to be fettered. You know that. But among friends like you? A little here and there. If we overload each other with gifts we'll have nothing to look forward to on the holidays."

Willie bent over with his arms folded, "Jackie knew you were going to say something like that, Maggie. She told me before she left for work today."

"Mmm," I responded, raising an eyebrow, "a wise woman found you, my friend. Very wise."

"Well," Willie answered, "considering she's been at help with such a lady... once pesky Witch... in botanicals, I figure wise-woman isn't bad to describe her, Barnabas."

"I wouldn't call her pesky," my bride reproached, stroking her growing abdomen in a display of affection and calming.

"Not anymore," Willie stepped to the writing desk and sat at the chair sighing, "but she sure was for us once, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Maggie said, "well... she was my friend and has been again. Otherwise I wouldn't invite Angelique to help with the birth."

No breathing sounded. A crack at the fire sparked with an echo.

Dead silence prevailed for some time.

My bride blinked, looking at Willie's shock and then turning to me,

"_Mon demón_? _Mon doux amour?"_ she asked in alarm, "I told you this, did I not? We only know so much about what we are and what our child will become. A basic doctor can only do so much for us now, Barnabas. We need someone who knows more and we need... a friend."

The silence continued, almost exceeding the weight of the room as she said this.

Finally, Willie, sitting with his elbows resting on his out-turned knees and folded hands between, he bent over and addressed my wife, "Josette Dupres... we've all come so far and I tell you, for healing... I'm the same as all of us here. But Angelique Collins? ... I don't care if she_ is_ married an' settled now... _and to the wildest_ _fella_... beyond myself, a'course. But I don't like the idea of that dame being in so much control of my goddaughter's birth. I really don't... I-I-I don't like it."

If Willie's stuttering was recurring that was enough for alarm.

Josette's eyes began to dance, as ever they did in any life she lived when she was concerned... back and forth they went, switching between my own orbs dazed in autumn hazel. The brownness of her worry searching for the answers to mine.

"She's come a long way... we all have..." she almost whimpered.

"I understand," I consented, looking down into my lap and then up at the beauty of my world, "It's the risk of everything we've achieved changing back to what it was... Margaret Josette Dupres... my bride, my life, and bringer of my child... I wish no harm to anyone. But are you sure? Can you trust, Angelique... even now?"

Josette took my hand, staring at it and pressing it tightly. Then, releasing me, she rose, walking slowly toward the steps and hanging on to the banister as if doing so upheld the entire structure of our home.

"Barnabas," she said to me, then turned to our friend, "Willie? I have to trust her. I have to try. Or else we won't have learned a thing."

The two of us were dumbstruck and when she noticed this she ascended the stairs. I was concerned until I heard this thought, _"I'm going to have a lie down."_

Willie Loomis stood, stretching his hands around as if to button his vest and then deciding not to he stepped toward me and we both continued to watch her feet until she was out of sight.

"Damn it _all_," he said, folding his arms, "Why on earth could she be so cozy with that idea, eh? Do you have any way of changing her mind?"

I inhaled, glancing at the carpet, and shifting to meet Willie's gaze, "I have... _no intention_ of changing her mind about anything, Willie. You remember why I fell in love with her to begin with, don't you?"

Arms still folded he twisted about, shaking his head and beginning to walk in a tiny circle, "Yeh, yeh... I know... _change._ But Angelique changing in anything other than last name is risky if you ask me. And _down-right_ risky when it comes t'who _you_ care about, Barnabas. I tell ya, she's come a long way.. but... but... I dunno. Maggie wants to trust her... but..."

He kept his hands folded, shifted his weight to stand in that way that was both matter-of-fact and cocky.

"But what, Willie? Would you like to tell me _you_ know more about Angelique, **and** how wicked she has been than I know myself?"

It was at times like this I wanted my cane to lean on, but I'd positioned it close to the door. It would be absurd to reach for it now.

Willie's arms dropped, he reached one hand to rub the back of his neck, "Well, no, but... you can't let her make those choices. Not in her condition! It's tempting fate that the mess we finally got out of will start all over again," here he folded his hands together, offering the palms out slightly like a message I should read, and stood very strait and upright, "I want that little girl back. I want to know her. I don't want no kids a'my own. I want to help take care a'_her_."

I breathed in, understanding, "I know, Willie. Every soul in this house wants that. But Maggie has her choice in whatever midwife she wants to deliver Sarah safely."

"It ain't _gonna_ be safe!" Willie almost shouted, coiling a fist down, "That dame could be playin' around with all of us as she's been so good at. I don't like it, Barnabas. I don't like it at all."

"Apparently," I nodded, not quite calm, but disposed to a studious regard for my best man.

Willie snorted at my nonchalance, not that I meant to be dismissive. I decided to try coaxing, "Let's presume for a moment you are correct, Mr. Loomis. Do you not believe we have enough on our side to make sure that Angelique will give no foul play?"

He stepped to the chair as if to sit again and changed his mind, turning around, "I want to believe it, Barnabas. From all I've heard about her **and** seen she still has that potential to turn sour again, happily married or not. This isn't like when I got upset about my wife goin' t'work with her. That was me being nervous. But this is an older hat than Ah've _ever_ worn. I at least have to say somethin'."

"And now you've said it," I told him in a voice of agreement, "and I am glad that you did. Remember neither of **us** were trustworthy once upon a time either. We weren't quite horrible to the degree Angelique was, but the two of us turning out for better things, there is a chance she's as good as she has proved so far. Josette's point is to give her that chance and that high of a cost is the only way."

Willie sighed, "All right... but I'm not buttonin' my lip on it. I don't like it. I just don't like it."

"No one said you had to, Willie Loomis... and... I can tell you... honestly... I don't like it either."

The lank of his frame finally rested on the chair with a sense of exhaust. Then he leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment. Next Willie stretched forward, placing bent hands at his hips, "I hope she knows what she's doing."

"Well," I offered, "she is more of a healer now. And with her knowledge she's likely going to be more of what we need than a modern doctor."

"Not Angelique," Willie groused, "_your wife."_

"I see," I stepped toward him and rested my hand on his shoulder, "I suppose she would know how to make decisions considering who she decided to live with... considering... you and I..."

Willie Loomis looked up to face me, and his lips widened into that old smirk I knew, which warmed into a smile.

Oh, yes. Now he understood. If Margaret Josette Dupres had decided he and I could come to better things, perhaps, even Willie Loomis knew, we could also allow her to decide on the good will of... an old friend.

* * *

_Yes, that's the plan: A damn good Angelique. Talk about having my work cut out for me. Right now the plan is to see how she can become redeemable somewhere in the 1897 storyline as "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" progresses._

_My memory tells me after her vampire self is wiped out or moved on she doesn't return until then. And is rather helpful in Dark Shadows considering the demise of Laura... who is a bad cookie... for reasons I still haven't quite determined... Okay, wants to give her children immortality? Is that so evil? Well, I'll work on Laura later as I go._

_As for Nicholas Blair, I don't see him as redeemable... unless we can give him a new job conducting his own "Sing-Along With Mitch Miller" show perhaps. I still wonder if Wadsworth should come along and offer a hand somewhere in the 1897 storyline. I'm guessing he'd fit in rather well._

_Thanks for the delightful reviews, including the unknown peoples. That was groovy. Also, if there are things you'd like me to alter please get in touch directly through email or facebook to have a dialogue. I'm still looking for alternatives than Lily Munster to give Margaret Josette Dupres her wedding gift of immortality._


	33. Chapter 32: A Discussion Between

Chapter 32: A Discussion Between Man, Woman and Child

Roger and I were looking over some dubious paperwork for another addition to the family business when my Cousin Elizabeth stepped into the drawing room.

"Ah," she smiled, "Cousin Barnabas, still as handsome and youthful as ever."

I turned to give a pleasant assurance, "Thank you, Cousin Elizabeth, but never forget, however you appear to others, all of you shall look the same to me."

I offered my hands and she took both in hers as she spoke.

"Very well," Elizabeth nodded, "you shan't keep everyone from believing what they see, but... what _you_ see is more important to us, isn't it?"

What I admired was seeing the reflection of who my mother could have lived to be in my Cousin Elizabeth now, with luxurious chestnut hair, and the warmth of love in her heart glowing from her eyes, "I hope I am," I told her, and we let go our hands, "I exist now in as much solitude in my own home but with as much unity in this modern world as I'm allowed with my uncertainty to its fast-paced extremities."

"Meh," Roger joined in, "it's nothing any of us should concern ourselves with. Business is business, but fad and fancies carry on with or without our approval. I'm more than happy to stay in the basic and classical forms as we've always done. Although..." here Roger peered across the room and blinked a confused stammer, "perhaps not so much in all of that dreaded _neon_ Judith Collins was so fond of."

We chuckled at this oddity. It was such a rough business looking back in time.

Cousin Elizabeth led me to the door and opened it, "It's so nice to see us all working things out on somewhat of a regular basis, isn't it?" Her hand rested on the knob of the in-turned door.

"Yes it is," I admitted lifting my cane and leant my weight on its arc to press the end to the floor, "How is the Ghost of Bill Malloy?"

Elizabeth smiled in exhale, "As crazy about me as ever, Cousin Barnabas. My husband and I are having quite a stir getting some privacy out of Bill. He always was so fond of me... Oh, how about Kooky Caleb? Is he gone for good?"

"I doubt that, Cousin Elizabeth. As well as he shifted out of sight from us as Victoria took hold of Seaview I've been wondering if he'll come back to us... as many of our ancestors do."

Keep her hand on the knob she held one cheek to lean me toward her to kiss my other, "As it should be. You shan't get lost in the woods, my friend. By this time, none of us shall."

The door closed and I wended my way about said woods to reach my home and... _my love_.

* * *

I closed the door of The Old House and removed my coat. How long it lasted and how well it wore I still found beyond my own belief. As I hung it up I stroked its elegance and reminded myself of the time periods I'd lived through, the travels I'd experienced and how it followed me along all of that time, along with my cane I stowed away, and the ring I wore. Now my eyes fell upon the band worn on my left hand, I found _that_ one more to my perusal of enjoyment, but both remained precious to me.

I looked up the stairs and felt the heartbeat of my beloved. I knew through my telepathic understanding she was lying in her bed, where I'd cherished her to be. Touching the banister I longed to see her as I'd often longed to see her, but there was a change; I knew I _would_ see her. The sadness of never believing we would be one, nor a shared duality was foremost to my mind in so much time and agony.

I took to the stairs, let my fingers drift along the hand rail. Up I went and her heartbeat became stronger.

I stopped on the landing and heard... _felt_ another.

My baby...

The soul of the sister I had lost. _Our child._

It almost hurt to feel this. This tiny heartbeat flowed into the rhythm of my own and my bride's. I felt this inside and adored its condition to me. Would I ever be a good father? Oh, yes... I could already see her first steps toward me... They would be from the davenport to the coffee table and I would stretch my hands out to be sure she stumbled not. My adorable child, Sarah Dupres. In our minds this was her name, and what she would be in the future. I allowed my sweetness to guide me in any French wisdom... for I knew she was right.

What I was now that drove me so far in my love and my searching. She was growing faster and so close to us. The breathing of my bride as if in one ear of my mind, and to my other ear the fluctuations of amniotic fluid around my daughter in her womb... where I had helped to place her.

Maggie awoke before my hand was on the knob of the door and as I opened it she spoke, "Please... please come in, _mon doux amour_. _Please,_ I've missed you."

I was in her room, _ou_r room and shut the door, turning the key in the lock with care, "No longer, _mon demón_? Josette?"

Did I speak this to her or did I send it to her in thought? I, myself, am unsure.

"Not tonight, Barnabas," she said aloud, "Please, just come to bed."

My stomach blended with my heart as her words reached me. No turmoil was in this place beyond the coiling of all the love we'd shared, brilliantly spread across the grounds, but better still in private quarters.

She was on the left side of the bed, under one sheet and it wasn't until I'd stepped to the right side that I noticed she'd already climbed in with no clothing on.

Maggie was awake to my understanding of this and said, "Join me." Again, I cannot know whether she said this vocally or whether she left me the echo of it in her thoughts, but I removed what I wore quickly and turned down the sheet to slip in beside her. As I did so, I suddenly wanted her terribly.

I must describe in these journals the exhilaration of being naked with her. How our skin touched so much of each other. Knee to knee, leg to leg arms wrapped around... all of what I wanted could become so close and not only was it what I'd always hoped for, she did as well. Together the adoration flowed from each other through our lips, upon our bodies and to the pulsing of our lives... however much we were undead. No longer did this matter to me... nor to her.

I was above my Josette whom I'd impregnated. Her smile was wan and delicious, even though I was behind her and could not see it. Curling tendrils abounded down her ear as the strait brown locks behind reflected her more modern condition. I leaned over her as she lay sideways, filled with child and rotund in the stomach but still beautiful... splendorous... the feast of my adoration.

My hands felt the downy flesh of her cheek, drifting throughout her neck and shoulders. That shiver of elation flowed from her heart to mine and she turned her head to look up at me as the candles in the room glowed over us, throughout the room.

"How are you two, tonight?" I requested, gently.

Her smile spread and released a pearly essence. Even here the sharpened cuspids were allowed air, "We are well, my sweet love. We've been waiting for you."

I let my hand glide down to cup her midriff and hold my family in my grasp, "What do you wish to tell me? Shall we speak together?"

"Yes," Josette told me, now resting upon her back as I let my palm remain holding these two who were so dear to me, "let us communicate as one. She is aware right now of what is happening."

"How is that?" I inquired, almost whispering.

"Because, Barnabas, her spirit dwells here, but also awaiting on the other side; you see? There is that connection when we change form. It's always been that way."

"I do see," I nodded, and unveiled the sheet to press my lips where my lover and child were joined. This brought the former a swift inhale and I continued to kiss them both over and over again. I have come to understand, however strange it is, that these touches to a woman with child excite her passions. Is it because she need not fear becoming pregnant as she is already? Or is it the firing of her womanhood toward being in the exclusive creation of inhabiting the creation of life itself? One might consider how incredible this concentration must be. I, being a part of it, certainly did. And as I loved her, I continued to both ease her through it and come to understand how much a part of this process I was. Our lives did more than join now; it brought forth and returned a life we missed so deeply. For this, I could not love her more. And I would _show_ her every day and night... _every _day and night.

Her hands came down to bring my face to hers. Our lips met. I could feel the shift of new being below, as if I were carrying her myself. My lips were released, "Oh, my."

Maggie smiled up at me, "Yes... discovering more than you supposed you might, _cœur de mon cœur_."

"Heart of my heart," I echoed back, drifting my hand up her arm to hold her own, "then let us speak to her."

My autumn eyes met with her brown ones and after focusing on her pupils a tiny, shy and familiar voice came out between us...

_"Father?" _it asked.

"Yes, my dear. I'm here."

_"Don't be afraid."_

"I'm not afraid. I'm happy... just to listen to you."

_"Good. Will you allow the Witch to deliver me, Barnabas?"_

"Of course... if that's what you want."

_"It's what needs to happen. She needs to be trusted."_

"Why, Sarah?"

_"Because she's been hurt worse than us, worse than anything you can be blamed for."_

"We understand, my child."

_"Good. Do you know what will happen, Father?"_

"What will happen, Sarah? Your mother and I want to know."

_"I will come to you all and correct. I will be well and she will give me a pet someday."_

"Will she?"

_"Yes. It will be very humourous, Barnabas."_

"Why?"

_"I will name it Joshua and it will be a cat."_

I hummed, clutching my beloved in hand stronger, "I see. Yes, that will be an amusement between you and her, I'm sure."

_"I want to tell you more, but I fear we can't talk for much longer now."_

"I'm listening, Sarah. What do you wish to tell us?"

_"Angelique is pregnant."_

My expression fell from enchantment to concern. No, I could no longer fear the woman of my unwonted lust and shame... as my daughter was telling me in this connection, now Angelique was with child herself.

"Sarah," Josette's voice was within me, as she contained our stare in this discussion, "who is coming? It's someone we know, isn't it?"

_"Yes,"_ our child told us, _"and he will be like a brother to me... so do not worry, Mamma. All will be well."_

"Who shall he be, Sarah?" I requested of her, still resting my hand on them both below.

_"Nephew Caleb, Father. He will be my cousin."_

The shock of this brought a horror to my heart, but mostly due to what I knew of the ghost and full grown man, "Caleb, Sarah? Will he be good to you?"

The connection was fading, but I could still faintly hear her, _"Oh, yes. He will be like a brother to me. I'll be with you all very soon. Don't lose hope. All will be well. I promise. Now kiss Mamma for me, Father, and in doing so, kiss me."_

I quickly leant a peck to the lips of my bride and in this our discussion ended. Maggie inhaled deeply and so did I.

I fell to my right side and she to her left. I bent my knees to reach hers and we kept room for our child's growth between us, by hand still resting on Sarah... and then Maggie's hand on mine. Our eyes were locked and I asked her, "What would you like now? Would you like to sleep?"

Josette blinked slowly and her mouth showed bemusement, as did those tantalizing eyes, "No... I want to touch and feel and speak with you, Barnabas. I think it is wonderful what's going to happen... not to mention," here she dropped her eyes down, "what already has."

I inhaled deeply, reaching my right hand to her head, cupping underneath her ear, finding that tenderness I always cherished.

"What would you like to discuss?"

"I want to remember, when we three were all together after you failed to... destroy yourself. How grateful I am we kept you from that."

Exhaling I told her, "Josette, don't you understand why I faced that challenge?"

"Yes," she responded in all sweetness and recognition, "to know what I went through and to be with her... I understand. _We_ understand. When we were downstairs that first night... together again... Do you remember the bliss that we shared?"

I had to kiss her, at least once and our lips parted, "Oh yes. You spoke to me in French once more. You recalled things I hadn't heard in eons. All those wonders about what I'd missed and been so stupid not to recall. I asked you how I never knew it was you and you said..."

"I said," she continued, "how _could_ you know? Your mind was lost when you came out. You pursued me as viciously as you had been pursued. Exposure does these things. We re-enact the behaviour of our tormenters when that is all we have to surround us. And then, you remember, Barnabas? How I kissed you?"

I breathed, "As I hadn't been kissed by you in almost two hundred years. Yes. I was sure, but then more certain, it was _you_ and what more you would be to me as yourself now. In the lives you'd journeyed, Josette. You have become something above yourself and even more for me to admire, more for me to adore. And we gazed, listening to the fire spark and you..."

"Oh," she grinned, "yes... you noticed the odor, didn't you? It wasn't perfume but-"

"It was perfume to me," I interrupted, "It was the stronger indication of who you were that I hadn't dwelt upon before. It was you because I smelled your hair. I hadn't let myself do that when I took you by force. And you allowed us to kiss, but not excessively, not voraciously. Gently... slowly... searching ourselves in the loss of time and space... my darling bride."

"Mmm," Maggie intoned, "and as we tired and blaze died down in the hearth... who stepped toward us in our fatigue?"

My left hand drifted over her womb, "Yes... Sarah. As corporeal as she could be and wanting to lie over our laps, Josette."

Maggie's hand pressed over mine that stroked where our child was snuggly held, "Of course, and do you remember what she did as we fell asleep? I fancy not, so I will tell you. She hugged me where our hands are now and the last thing I heard was her telling me that someday, in many years, her heart would beat with mine... and if we did not lose hope, she would live again... _through_ us."

My expression dropped as I digested the reverberation of her words, "I wanted to believe this, Josette. Is it true? Please tell me it is, not because I don't believe... but because I remember that... and... I _want_ to believe..."

Maggie laughed and clutched the hand I'd placed over her stomach, "Of course, _mon demón_. Of course you and I will be the parents she never had, and..." here she kissed me tenderly, "I want you... as far inside me as you can go without harming what we bring into this world... my love."

My hand stroked her cheek, her chest and where our hands met below. I wondered if I had enough knowledge to please my bride in her condition and be wary of our child. (In all of these words and expressions, I was more than prepared to serve her request.)

"Oh..." Maggie told me, "It's all right, _mon doux amour_. Just kiss me at the neck and at my back and we shall move according to what needs to be."

She turned away and I could do nothing but obey her commands. As soon as her back was afore my front I pressed my lips below her ear, along her neck, massaging her shoulder blades as they faced me and the speed of her breathing entranced me to continue... to raise her locks of hair and bite behind her skull... to which she responded in adoration and told me, "Please feel my skin, my sweet love, please explore me again as you've done before."

"Always a pleasure," I told her, "always more than I ever hoped to have..."

"Nor I, Barnabas... please remember... we are together in this re-unifying."

I'd pressed my mouth upon her hips and looked towards my bride, "Always, Josette, I always knew that you and I shared the agony of being separated..." I scooped my hands underneath where she lay, "Please... will you turn on your back?"

She did, and I stroked the top of her thigh, then brought her legs apart to spread open so I could reach down, kissing the inner sides of each and listening to her gasp. The flutter it brought to my stomach fed further my desire to enter her again.

I wouldn't compel myself upon her, but express my love down to her knee, along her calf, kissing her toes and then reaching her other leg and guiding myself to stroke, kiss and fondle what she had that I would show kindness to. But when I reached her own motherhood she found my head in her hands and said, "No, don't disturb us there that way, come to greet me."

I took myself up and her lips were my safe haven. I drifted into her mouth and out of it, massaging where I could to keep my bride happy, and so she was. My hand rested on her breast, now enlarged due to the obvious point on the calendar. Josette would not resist. My fingers rested at the bone of her hip. When I took my hand further up to her throat she inhaled in a passion that invited me to kiss her again and then I heard from her mind, "Take me once more, Barnabas, before we must leave all love making behind and only know each other by touches alone."

So filled with my child as Maggie was, I contemplated what needs I had to provide for her. Stroking her sides, I shifted her body to the center of the bed, and she moved in accordance with what scene I tried to create. Josette pulled her legs back, bending her knees, stretched out her arms and welcomed myself, her husband, to push through and now I did, arcing myself over her at first to kiss her until she confessed, "It's alright, just enter me below, don't thrust too hard. Only bring yourself to adhere to the dance we share."

I did as I was bid.

On my knees before her, at first grappling her waist, I found her thighs in my hands and pulled them back. The knees of her bended willingly around my torso and I brought myself further into Josette, but carefully so I would not harm her nor our child... which was no burden. When I entered her again I was undeniably welcome. The honey and nectar of her insides increased for me. I continued within her and watched Josette lie back before me in exhilaration. But this agony continued as I wanted to kiss her rather than observe her enjoyment. Still, her stomach was large and it was because our child lay within. But her pleasure mattered to me so I endured entering and re-entering her, watching her as I guided myself and longed to press my lips to hers but could only hold back.

Josette reached her hands to mine as I continued inside her. If I could not kiss her lips, I would kiss her hands. Palms, fingers, wrists, nails, all exposed to my lips while I pursued our pleasure within her. Josette's hands unwound from mine and I saw her arms rise to surround her head as she began unleashing her enjoyment in gasps, wanting to change position but having to remain on her back... continuing this experience with me.

I felt her feet along my back, placing and replacing myself inside her as her teeth parted and she moaned so happily. Maggie let her arms come down at her sides as she tried to relax. We finally found each others hands and laced our fingers together. This blend of touch provided me with what I needed to bring forth, and what she needed while I longed for her lips to kiss.

I flowed into her and out of her as she leant her hips upward. Wary not to injure our baby, I tended myself as far forward as I could over and over. I noticed where the hilt was and avoided pushing too far. This was no struggle. In all my concentration, my own eyes closed to feel her again with this. My bride and lover... all that I'd always wanted to know, and now I did. Again and again. How I longed to kiss her.

When her breathing increased I sensed I might find a climax, bent over and lifted my hips to help bring her the intensity she might need. Josette let out a stark inhale and I knew I'd done the right thing.

As she gasped, my bride took her legs up and I found the palms of her feet in my hands. In this awkward repose, myself still inside her, I kissed her ankle at my right and then the one at my left. Releasing her feet, she placed them to hug me on either side. I carefully removed myself from inside her, and she straitened her legs as I lay upon the right side of her bed.

Maggie released her breath and found my cheek, gliding her hand over it, down my neck and chest.

"Now we have what was needed," she expressed.

"I know, my love. I know."

"As do I, _mon demón_... as do I."

I took the back of her head in my hands, reaching under the luxurious hair, and we kissed as passionately as on the first night we wed, stretching across time, and into the magnitude of what we had enlarged our love to become.

I, Barnabas Collins, being so in love with her, and I knew why I was; for she was the change of the gloom and austerity Collinwood had been from my childhood. But in Josette Dupres I knew her kindness and understood how it would alter what we were.

Maggie taught David. Josette loved Angelique. She adored Sarah and was soon about to give birth to her. Maggie helped Julia, she laughed with Roger. Josette studied the family history before it was published to unlock Victoria Winters unfair accusations. She helped Elizabeth to understand that Witchcraft was not a crime. Kitty left Edward's ring behind to pursue the true love that was I and died for it a second time.

Josette Dupres, Kitty Soames, Maggie Evans. All as the woman of my dreams and beyond: She gave Willie Loomis counsel, took a menial job to support her father, forgave my wretched abuse of her, stood fast for Amy Jennings, gave Chris her support, reminded Carolyn and Victoria that although no father connected them, _one fine mother_** did.**

Of this woman, who is so neglected from a lack of extreme action in personality... well perhaps she is simply more subdued? Margaret Josette Dupres is my one true love, my **only** true love and the binding force of change for the better within our home and within my heart.

To all She has done for myself, for my family and for my home I can only bless myself for falling in love with her.

Without her I am shadow.

Within her I am light.

* * *

_Thank you for reading. Let me know what you enjoyed. And if you're wondering who the heck Caleb Collins is? Please visit my profile page, linked from my name and click "CALEB COLLINS FIGHTS BACK!"_

_He's a pistol... and I think... Angelique Collins deserves to give birth to a little boy like that? Don't you? ;)_


	34. Chapter 33: One Night On The Davenport

Chapter 33: One Night On The Davenport

_Why always a davenport specifically, my beloved readers and reviewers must wonder... Well, the last radio-drama I listened to before getting so involved in creating my own was "Vic &amp; Sade". It's wonderful, it's fluffy and they discuss their davenport a lot. Wadsworth could easily make this available to our loving couple in the starvation of their love. _

_One thing about "Vic &amp; Sade" I was so happy about and learned later is it was a major favourite of Mr. Rogers. Yes... he **adored** "Vic &amp; Sade". What is left of the original episodes I really feel speaks to past times, and I implore my fluffy Dark Shadows fans to find those remaining recordings and enjoy them. Like L.M. Montgomery, they are an eye-opener to a kind of history that has almost **nothing** to do with **war**. And as my gentle readers understand... that's what we all want for our Josette &amp; Barnabas, isn't it? _

* * *

My bride so filled with our child in this love affair had laid her back upon my lap. We were upon the davenport sideways from the fireplace and I continued to look for ways of how I could make her more comfortable. At this point her size was so enormous it overwhelmed her at times. I was so proud of her taking this burden upon herself regardless of how many women before her had endured so much in growing another being inside them. This one was mine, hers, ours, and a beloved recreation. I would not betoken it with triviality. No. This drew so much more importance to what we had strived to become.

The fire crackled nearby and I looked down on her smooth features, her hand in mine, and stroking her face with the other, wanting to bless her with ease and contentment as her body continued to feed the growth inside of her.

"You look at me so adoringly... my demon..." she smiled up at me.

"Ah, saying it in English, Josette? How could I not look on you with adoration?"

"I understand," she breathed, the darkness of her eyes perplexing me with so intricate a love as they looked into mine, "and I felt it was important to tell you how I feel now. You _are_ my demon, but not the worst of them. Mindful, filled with manners, just grown rough in spots from all you've gone through... to find... me."

And how odd it was as I looked back now with my tortures, our fights in my kidnapping and forcing her to become less than she was worth... Josette only? No. I was foul and I was wrong. This woman of many lives was meant to be for me and I'd refused to understand that; kept trying to fit her into a design unworthy of her very soul, who had been through so much for me. Not that I knew. No. I was a ruination of myself on top of everything else, and she was a glory I refused to understand then.

"What position will work best for you, Josette?" I offered.

Her breathing gave her some conflict.

"_Doux demón_, no woman in my condition... _can_ become satisfied in how she feels in any position... by this time. Keep holding my hand."

I clutched around her palm lovingly and she pressed my fingers in hers, "Perhaps we can think of something together, Maggie. We have that power now to blend our thoughts and live elsewhere from our hearts and minds..."

"That's good, Barnabas," she stated, "I've been enjoying that... as well as how I've dressed you."

Ah, yes. Kitty was the dominant one now in what I wore. Much came from that Victorian time. I'd wanted to conform to more current attire but my bride detests this appeasement to the modern by saying, "Ah... you've already shown yourself to be different. The only thing that the attire of the late 1890's will prove you to be is slightly eccentric. That is all. Wear your long coats and your cravats and let the rest of the town be damned if they don't like it... for you know... _I do._"

"And you dress me very well, my sweet," I persisted.

She shifted on her back and over my legs in her swelling and stroked our daughter in her womb with a sense of uneasiness.

"How are you doing, both of you?" I questioned.

She exhaled, "Getting tired... of sharing space with each other, I think."

_Can we speak to her again,_ I wondered in my mind. Maggie heard this.

"No," she told me, "she's too secure in this body now and so restless. We need to think of something else to pass the time, Barnabas. What can we think of? Please, come up with something."

I already knew, "Our dances?"

"Mmm," she asserted, "yes, which can we come up with? Let us go there."

"That strange melody you favoured at The Blue Whale, Maggie. No modern music truly touched me before that."

I could hear her mind attempt to conceal her gratitude that the music I mentioned was _not_ from her music box... nor from the music box she had given me either. *

"Mmm," she said, "let's go back to that tango. You were so pursuant of me then."

_Have I ever been otherwise?_

Reaching down to her in my lap, I held her neck and kissed her lips as deeply as I could. Our minds went back to that evening we were all but alone minus an undemanding barkeep who had seen enough trouble not to encourage a night of enchantment. I could hear Maggie's thought in return to mine, _"Yes, Mr. Andrews. A gentleman, indeed."_

The delight in reliving that dance, as I drew away from her lips and we stared into each other's eyes, had its own beauty even in its awkwardness. We'd been reaching for each other across time, and she knew so much more of now than I. I had no idea what a steel guitar was that concocted those oddest sounds. And what fascinated me more was when she later told me the title was, "Sleepwalk". Ah, weren't we sleep-walking, though? Now and then?

Enchanting as the scene was, we remembered together our talk of simple things at the table afterward. She was detailing the governess position for David, she spoke of the mystery between us we didn't know, but my butler did, though he would never explain it to me. He knew I had to reach that understanding on my own and let this all unfold. As I have told him; he doesn't know enough, he knows _too much._

Through this, another backdrop bled into being between us: the promenade to our matrimony. Music glided through us from the reception of our Wedding Day. Its memory wielded a finer passion of anticipation: Lining up in pairs, altering partners diagonally, striving to speak to each other with our minds before we'd mastered it. A dance of olden times we'd lived through together. But the evening was heavy on our minds. In one moment as we searched to re-couple in this dance, the violins eased that grace of music to our steps, our hands met and Maggie raised an eyebrow of humourous regard. She brought me to worry about what she was thinking, but pleasantly so.

_She'd seen what I'd been speculating... **I** had undressed her in my mind. _

Having to give a downcast expression, I glimpsed our feet so as not to trip in this mixture of frolic and blush, apprehending the coming evening. I was abashed, but still... I was smiling... as... was... _She_.

There was an Old World politeness we'd brought from our pasts keeping us coyly inhibited amongst our family and friends. They'd studied these dances of our time thoroughly to enjoy this with us, and we would not disappoint them by stumbling ourselves; too rich would be our lives now in this blend of past and present.

To this memory we shared, echoes of our want and desire stretched out, and in the now our hands clutched, while in that remembrance of our wedding day thoughts flowed smoothly of things we'd yearned toward each other but could not hear.

_"The cake was too heavy,"_ spoke my Josette.

I had to grin as we sat there, marvelling at this trivial pleasure of complaint.

_"Yes it was, wasn't it?"_ I admitted, with amusement, _"Usually something light is preferred for days like this. Was it too much chocolate?"_

As that afternoon swelled in our shared enjoyment of the reception and this dance, she answered, _"I never wanted chocolate... I only wanted **you**."_

The smile I was wearing, as we sat in the recollection of dancing together, began to fall as I puzzled in our state now, anxious over how our offspring would turn out when she entered this world we had strived to make as safe as possible. Would Sarah be mortal or would she be monster? A tear formed at my eye, _"And **I** never wanted blood,"_ I expressed to my bride in thought, _"I only wanted **you**."_

Josette's face formed a saddened glow, but one of loving appreciation, _"We had to have that, mon demón... we had to have that to have each other... for as long as this need spills forward, for as long as we need each other. Our lives endure and perhaps never-endingly. We will be put to the test as we have been each glorious night. So far what we are has been worth waiting for, worth struggling and fighting for... worth the people who pit us against each other only to combine again and again... in spirit and now... in flesh. Don't fear what our daughter will be, Barnabas. Whether she is like us or not, she will be what she wants to be... as We are... together."_

The encapsulation of our wedding day and of our dance, broke away and our minds harkened back into the present; of two hands held together, us two reposing upon the renewal we'd created for Sarah. Her back was still resting along my lap, and all our hearts were beating as one. We'd concentrated our love-making for this union between the three of us, to right the wrongs, and bring the hope of change; the reason I always adored my bride of what she could, would and _has_ done to create for our home. This was the purpose of choosing her among all other women; an alteration from gloom... to pleasure.

_"Josette never begged for anything,"_ I'd told her as Maggie alone, before I knew she was both.

"No I didn't," said Maggie, the renewal of Josette Dupres, and in this new fitting name, in all of its length... but what of that name? Margaret? That last syllable told me more than was contemplated on. She was Maggie and she was Josette... to me she was _Margarette._

_"Josette had a vase of flowers in every room of the house. She wanted life, the beauty of living surrounding her wherever she went."_ I had told Maggie in my filthy past of tormenting her.

"Yes, I did... and so I do now. You know that. You know how it hurt me to work all those hours from my home long ago and not be able to provide that for... Papa..."

Of course, if only she'd collected that habit again, and not lost it in the need to provide for her home and shelter. Her mouth curved as Maggie sent me the reminder that the habit of providing more flowers had been revisited all around us.

I lost her gaze to look about the room. There were peach blossoms clipped shortly in a small vase on my desk. Their upturned pinkish-purple petals curved around a range of white pistils that drew me in whenever I turned away from my work. But the message in this flower now came to me in her placement of them: _"I am your captive."_

How had I not seen this? And how, after all we'd been through, could she make that confession? It could not be for guilt toward what I'd done to her. No, she wouldn't do that to me now.

Her bygone portrait was over the hearth in the downstairs parlour again, where it always should have stayed. She was the princess of this house and always would be. On the mantle beneath that portrait was a container of Honeysuckle, like white gloves forming their fingers into a peaceful arc above the stamens: _"Generous and devoted affection."_

She had always been that to me and I to her.

My eyes lit to the small table nearest the stairway. There stood an ornate drinking glass of cobalt blue French crystal and coming out of its waters were Lilies of The Valley, tenderly bending leftward in their bell-like hanging blossoms: _"Return of Happiness."_ Of course! This was where I'd carried her up the stairs to conceive our child: a return of happiness. Maggie had been placing these flowers there once a month and I had never compiled the knowledge of her meaning... until this moment. Why hadn't I?

She heard this and answered in thought, _"You and I speak to each other in many and varied ways; celestial, physical, bemused... there are no methods to count them in total. Our destinies are one. But we are split to find all the variety of what we love in ourselves. That is the blessing of being together but separate. Combining we grow in new ways with each passing of the sun and the moon above, the days, the nights, the wind, the rain... and of our heartbeats uniting as one... our starlight over the dome of our world. Only the forming of clouds can recognize our loss and our love, when they drift apart and rejoin, as we do in our marriage. It's our journey, Barnabas. No one else's."_

I breathed in and out, holding the hand that held hers to touch her sweet face. This gesture reminded me and committed to me all the amour she'd presaged back in our olden days, as I tried to protect her with my absence after what I'd become.

"And yet," I told her, "you've wanted that journey for others, Josette. You've wanted all happiness for others, haven't you?"

"I have wished it," she confessed, stroking the largeness of her middle with a look of grace and affection, "but," this with the heartiest gaze back at me, "if I can't manage it for everyone, allow me the selfishness to be happy that all I have done is created it for us."

I barely heard the cushions shift as I reached down to fervently kiss her for this request. _Granted, easily, swiftly, without question, my Margarette._ She was all that was sacred to me, all that I held dear, all that I could allow myself to be one with. In spirit she protected us and corporeally we protected each other with sanctuary.

That was when the deep echo of familiar steps gradually drew away our channelled connection of heart and mind.

"Sir," a deep voice spoke, his accent by now having influenced my own, "Madam... moiselle?"

My bride turned her head and asked, "Yes, Wadsworth? Is something wrong?"

He was kneeling before us, his hands prepared for attendance to some need we didn't know of yet.

"I'm afraid so, or perhaps very right, Madame Dupres. As you are aware we've been keeping many towels beneath you... just in case."

"Oh," she smiled, "I have been _very_ comfortable for that."

"I suppose you could be," he admitted, an eyebrow slowly raising, "but perhaps Madame did not notice in her current concentration of this evening. Those towels you lie on have likely proven their need."

The lovely smile faded from my bride and she leaned up in an attempt to gaze over the roundness of her bulk. I looked myself and saw that her dress was soiled.

Maggie's inhale was sharp as our stalwart butler informed us, "I'm afraid Madame's water has broken."

* * *

_*I have been planning for months that Josette should have a music box as a wedding present to Barnabas stowed away in that crate they found in -The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows-. I looked over an old classical tune with moonlight in the title but it was a bit after 1795. My husband said, "Use it anyway." And I agreed, "Sure, it could be an early demo by that composer." _

_However, I cannot remember what classical tune I chose for Barnabas' music box from Josette. I'm sure I'll remember when the time comes._

_Positive insight, enjoyment or reflection welcomed on this chapter, as always._

_Namaste._


	35. Chapter 34: The Cost of Friendship

_Please remember, this is what needs to take place after the radio drama is settled. How Angelique is healed and whose bride she turns out to be is still a determined goal, but in my farcical thoughts for The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows, she would have been with Milligan, until I realized how much longer and further I could take this. Barnabas was an obsession. Sky Rumson? No. Not good enough for our beloved Witch, and our beloved Witch she will remain. There is no reason, to me, that "Bewitched" could be on the air at the same time from 1964-1972, and meanwhile Witchcraft was "wrong" in almost all terms on Dark Shadows. SILLINESS! Angelique Bouchard deserves better than to renounce her powers, and if I find more evidence that she is the daughter of Andre Dupres, I'll try and make up for that as well. In any case there was a time in 1897 the man who is her husband, as shown here, wanted her, and... She wanted him. So perhaps one date to appease Sir Simon Milligan, but what man, after his throes of immortality, does she truly have chemistry with? No, not Barnabas. Someone much more deserving of her, and her much more deserving of him._

_And of course, to the woman of "higher class", who was always her friend regardless of a difference in status; Josette Dupres... the point is they will be friends again in The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows, some day... somehow._

* * *

Chapter 34: The Cost of Friendship

Our trustable servant and friend was correct, my water had broken. Barnabas and I had been in a reverie and that was shattered now as I was helped to my feet and... I was suddenly awash in a release of fluid that splashed around my ankles. Looking down, the three of us breathed heavily.

My husband held me at one arm, and our butler at the other.

My voice quavered, "Barnabas... I have only just realised something..." my glance turned up to him from the floor and his expression was agape, "In all of the lives we've shared together? I have never given birth before."

His head tilted with that loving worry over me I hadn't seen in so long, "Oh, my dear... my dearest Josette. I..." he paused. I could hear him about to promise no harm would come to me as he had done of old and thought better of it. His eyes were on my feet as he breathed in, then an appreciative smile glimmered through as his gaze met mine again, "Would it help for you to know that... I haven't either?"

We all smiled at this but my own smile became enjoyable laughter. Even Wadsworth had a very low chuckle and muttered something rewarding to Barnabas.

"Now, madam. Trod carefully," cautioned our butler as we all walked together to the foyer.

"Can you manage the stairs, Maggie?" Barnabas asked.

"Yes, I only... I need to remove my slippers," I explained, "they're soaked."

"Is madam sure she wouldn't prefer quarters in hospital?" Wadsworth inquired.

"Yes," Barnabas repeated, "are you sure about that?"

"Quite sure," I exhaled, holding on to the railing and kicking off my cloth slippers. "That room has been kept for me through six generations," the weight upon my middle intruded on my thought, I could feel her wanting to come out so I addressed that, "and our little lady was born in this house before. She might as well be again."

Besides, in our strange immortal state there were issues about which no standard clinicians of mortals could provide. In this magic there were considerations of health even Julia couldn't establish, as well as she'd studied vampires. Angelique knew more about what was happening.

Before I could place a toe on the first step, the front door swung open with a cold breeze, then shut and we all turned around. It was Willie, rubbing his hands from what presumably was a chilly evening. Having taken his wife to the train station to go on a trip she'd been planning for months, Willie Loomis wore a welcoming grin which fell away at the confusion of seeing us in what was obviously an awkward moment.

"Hey... there. What's... what's happening, Maggie? What are you all doing?"

"Madam's water has broken, Mr. Loomis," said Wadsworth.

Willie's face, youthful as ever, dropped in concern, "Oh... oh, my, I... what, what..." Willie was stuttering again, but I concealed a smile as this was the proper reason to cause it, "what can I do? Whad'yah need... from me?"

I held the banister, "Remember what I asked you before, Willie. Go to the lighthouse. Bring Angelique here."

He stood there blinking, still hoping I wasn't serious about it, the fingers on both hands coiling together, folding to his lips in fret and acceptance, "I... ah... ah.. All right... All right, Ah'll do it. Ya'd think with 'er powers she'd known already what's goin' on... or have some telepathy about it or somethin'."

"That's as may be," I remarked, "but remember we agreed. We all agreed it was all going to work this way. It has to work this way, Willie. You have to find her and bring her here. I want Angelique to help."

Willie exhaled irritably but I knew it wasn't aimed toward me, just this situation he hated to be a part of. He didn't trust her. This was another test for him above all others. Re-zipping his coat he no longer questioned me and opened the door again but Wadsworth called out, "Do be careful, Mr. Loomis."

This brought an appreciative grin to Willie's face, releasing its tension as his hand rested on the knob. He looked back and said, "I will, old friend. I will."

Stepping out with determination, the door practically slammed behind him. Good. That was his statement of proof he was going to do this for me. I turned to face the stairs again and grunted, "Ugh... all of this and I have to relieve everyone's concerns. You think it was bad enough I've remembered all of who I was in so many lifetimes..." and then I took a step upward and stopped, listening to my husband.

"Would you give it up, Maggie? Are you unhappy?"

"Don't trifle with her, Sir," Wadsworth cautioned, "this stress is considerable. She may say what she needs to unburden herself."

I held the railing, taking another step and smiling. Inwardly I thought, "God bless that damned _Better Homes &amp; Gardens_. Photographing this place and publishing enough copies so this butler could find half of what he needed to help us. If I hadn't seen that in Dr. Hoffman's office I might not have had so many memories triggered when I was there."

I climbed the steps with my two helpers behind me. If I lost my balance they were there and I knew I'd be safe. My bare toes felt the carpeting at each step. I had to reach my bedroom. I had to give birth to our baby there. Almost tripping over my long skirt I lifted the folds of it and kept going. At about the top step I could hear the men behind me. Reaching the landing I gasped.

Barnabas looked up at me from two steps down, "What is it, Maggie?"

"It can't be..." I gaped at him, "a contraction... _already?"_

Behind Barnabas, on a lower step, was Wadsworth leaning to the left of him, expressing, "Mademoiselle, the realms of the supernatural are hardly in league with any standards of expectation."

That was certainly correct. I hadn't given birth in any of my lifetimes and now I was doing so as a creature of the half-light; a vampire who already broke most of the usual rules, being little affected by sunlight. I walked forward, opening the door and finding my room as aglow of lit candles as I'd ever found it. My fellows strode in and I reached the pole of the bed to brace myself and turn about, "Is it prepared, Wadsworth?"

"I am no shirker, madam. All is laid out for your appointment. I wasn't sure you wanted the blankets but all is ready for... your needs."

I switched my position and looked. The blue linens were folded back in a triangle and I grabbed at them to climb in. So much terrycloth and wraps were laid out underneath, I briefly wondered if the weight of them was too much for the mattress to be upheld. That man did his job and did it thoroughly. I stretched out and felt the cushioning and... It was cozy.

The two men stepped forward and Barnabas took the bedclothes, laying them down over me and sitting beside me on the bed, asking, "Tell me what you need, my darling, please, tell me."

"I... we need time, of course, that is all. It's going to be a while and..." I looked up at our butler.

"Yes, madam... moiselle..." Always a pause he made between madam and moiselle. That inside joke never left him.

"Go to the main house at Collinwood and tell them what's going on."

Our friend nodded as if in relief. Turning on his heel he exited the room but left the door open.

Why did that open door make me feel naked?

Shuffling steps on the stairs and all was silent minus the breathing of my lover and I. What had Barnabas prayed? I needed those words again as his cheek had pressed along my stomach and I rested my back to the pillows and the headboard 9 months ago?

_Let what I endow here give us our little one back, and in doing so, give Sarah the chance she never had; to grow and become a woman herself._

Yes, it was all coming to fruition now. And... another tightening down below my center. I inhaled sharply. It wasn't painful yet, but it was extreme. Catching me off-guard, I grabbed my husband's arm, squeezing hard for support.

"Maggie? What's wrong? What's happening?"

I finally breathed out, letting go of his arm, lifting myself up in bed and shouting, "_Nothing!_ Nothing is happening, Barnabas! I'm only starting to give birth, _that's all!"_

His eyes widened and a smile began to form as he faced me, "More fire coming out, my Kitty?"

Scowling I felt another contraction and just about flung out the words, "Oh, if you tease me right now, Barnabas Collins I am going to _slap you!"_

He reached down and brought my blanket a little higher, then looked into my eyes, "... do you promise?"

**_SLAP!_**

I'd slung his head to the right. Barnabas absorbed my strike upon him. His face was turned at the hearth flames now, then to the floor and he was still smiling as he slowly tilted his damned winsome expression back towards me, "I distracted you, didn't I?"

With a burst of laughter, I finally understood, "Yes, you did!"

The warmth of his grin reached me back to my senses. Holding my left arm in his right hand he ventured, "May I kiss you... mother of my child?"

Air flew into me and I uttered, "Don't speak _too_ soon."

My gentle dearest didn't wait for permission any longer and pressed his lips to mine. For one beautiful minute we were at peace again and those hands were clutched at my jaw line, fingers resting below my ears and then our tongues collided, slinking within to share what moments we had left before I was made to bare this experience on my own.

"_No,"_ I heard his mind call out, "_let me understand what's happening, my Josette. I shall bear it with you."_

We kissed, glided through to each other and I thought back to him, "_That will do no good, mon doux amour, I need you to keep strong for us."_

I heard the hinges creak and knew Wadsworth had come back, but who on Earth was with him? I remember Victoria had offered to help but would she have been at the main house or in her own home tonight? Steps thudded and echoed up the stairs. In the open doorway I recognized the blonde and brunette duo striding forward to be helpful and I was curious.

"Maggie?" they almost said in unison and then Carolyn continued, "what do you need? What can we do?"

"Oh, well... Vict..." and then I gasped again feeling that same pull to my muscles down below.

Carolyn splayed out her hands in a wild context, "Hot water! We need sterility here!"

_Oh, dear... **God**..._ I thought to myself. Barnabas smiled. He heard what was in my mind.

"As the ladies can view here, I already have that prepared." Our butler gestured to a table near the fireplace where two large basins were placed as the steam rose from them. And he had the _nerve_ to call himself humble. A _miracle worker_ was what _he_ was!

"Um... okay... that's settled," Carolyn stated, "now-"

I gasped again and pushed Barnabas away so that he stood up immediately as I threw off the blankets and waved the girls to reach me, asking them to remove my underwear. Not the brightest move in the world as Victoria alone would have been the better person to address for this specifically. She lifted my skirt, found the article and began to pull. I was able to lift my hips up, helping her in this endeavour, but what happened next? Carolyn took one look at the mess I had down below that I am sure was distasteful, though I couldn't see, and swooned to the floor in a dead faint.

_Great._

After Victoria took off my garment and flung it under the bed to go unseen for the time being, she pivoted over to see Carolyn who was in a heap on the floor, Barnabas just having gotten down to kneel over her. Victoria did likewise and began patting her cheek in order to wake her. I wondered why she would even _bother_. It might be just as well that Carolyn was out for the count at this point. Couldn't they let her sleep it off? I'm guessing Mrs. Muir and Miss Stoddard never had any detailed discussions about the former's giving birth. No surprise from Carolyn Muir. She may well have understood that such tales to her own children being born would make our Carolyn Stoddard more seasick than those sailing stories they kept churning out at the publishing house.

As these irritable thoughts flooded through my mind it dawned on me that I was becoming more impatient with each passing minute. Is that a standard for women in the throes of childbirth? Apparently. And why was I even asking? Another pull came to me. _Mmmmph!_ Oh, our little one was getting as impatient as I was!

As I started breathing heavily I noticed the wind outside was making itself known. Then a flash of light struck against all the windows and in a state of habit I decided to start counting. I got up to eight before I heard the thunder crash. Ohhh, if Angelique and Willie are out in that...

No. I could hear the door open and shut quickly as an argument was in full force. _Willie, please don't bait her_, I thought, _she's been through enough!_

"I wasn't asking for your opinion, _Mister_ Loomis. I was telling you to stop demanding for me to hurry ahead when I was rushing through that stormy wind already."

"Well, that's just fine. For all I knew it was a pleasant enough evening until I was sent out to come an' get'cha. Ya didn't warn me that a storm was brewing up so fast. Can't your kind predict the weather 'er somethin'?"

"Yesss," I heard Angelique almost growl, "and I did tell you it was going to be difficult to get here when we left the lighthouse. Why do you think Quentin was working his fingers to the bone getting a dry wick? It was raining earlier today while we were cleaning the fuel spout and trying to fix that broken window. If he doesn't get it lit those three ships coming in are going to split their hulls on the _damned rocks_ cluttering up the shoreline!"

Oh my, I thought, while watching Barnabas, Victoria and Wadsworth carry the defeated Carolyn to the settee and resting her head on a cushion, my old friend finally found that spark again. She'd been so subdued, but I suppose looking after a lighthouse in whatever self-reliance was necessary, she'd finally come to understand what she'd agreed to in marrying old mutton chops. They both had to endure the loneliness that entailed, the independence required in such a responsibility and conquering that feeling of being forsaken. Lighthouse keeping was demanding work and on the outside it could seem a romantic blessing, but on the inside it had its qualms.

Not to mention the fact they had to rely on gas now, not electricity. That was the agreement they shared; doing things the old fashioned way. When a child was born to them they were allowed to update the technology of the lighthouse, but not before.

Then, I remembered what Sarah told us the last time we spoke to her. Angelique was pregnant, and pregnant with one feisty Collins. She had a right to be in a foul mood. I was blessed, I knew. I was having Sarah. Whether Caleb had settled in all the help he brought us as a ghost and about to be born into our family again was a measure of uncertain wonder. Another heave on my innards gripped me for a minute. As it subsided I grinned, _"Yes... Caleb... you salty old devil... always helping us to the last... you aren't coming back to us this way from an accident. You chose your new mother. You chose Angelique. I know your sense of humour. It's far more extreme than mine could **ever** be."_

More steps on the stairs and there she was, again in such alien attire to how I once knew her; denim trousers instead of a long skirt, bandana over her head rather than the old fringed cap, a scarf, a basic blouse and now she was rolling up the sleeves of it. The room went silent. Willie stood in the doorway as she stepped forward and uttered just above a whisper, "How are you, Josette?"

My face began to beam as I knew the time had finally come to find peace among us all, "I'm about to be a mother... old friend."

* * *

_And so? I'm working on it, I'll try to get the rest out to you all when I can. Thanks for being there, everyone. All should work out, I hope and even more romance to come after. Blessings._

_Oh, and nice commentary is appreciated as always. :) It's finding the people who wanted this that after so many months since last October (2013), I'm finally getting good sleep again. Thank you._


	36. Chapter 35: The Love, The Gratitude, and

Chapter 35: The Love, The Gratitude, And The Trust

Laying in my bed, another contraction came and I asked, "Why are they coming so fast?"

"This is normal, Josette" my friend, Angelique, announced, "You're a creature of the half-light. I know you feel overwhelmed, but believe me this is nothing like what a mortal woman would have to endure."

_"Why?"_ I breathed heavily, gasping and trying to endure what was happening, as my sweet child behaved so desperately to be released from me.

"What pain have you felt, Josette?" Angelique inquired.

It finally dawned on me as I spoke, "None..."

"_No_ pain, Maggie?" Barnabas asked, as if fearful that wasn't normal either. Honestly? How could any of us be thought of as "normal"?

"No, Barnabas," I told him, "No pain at all. Just extreme pressure and discomfort."

Angelique smiled widely at me and I could see her gratitude in our renewed friendship now. To have her back in my life, to have her better, whole, relieved of suffering in neglect: This was the woman I craved beyond any other friend. I remembered how upset she always looked when she was doing so much for my family and I could see the excessive amount of remorse in her own life that she felt. It was why I wanted to be her friend, and she listened better than any other servant I'd encountered. Recalling her beauty and her attentiveness, I had thought, "This is not a girl to nod at and dismiss. This is a woman who understands so much more. She knows feelings. She reflects on the inner depths of who we all are and if I can bring that precious knowledge out of her by showing her kindness, I must."

Angelique, strange in her modernity; her denim trousers, and her bare arms showing from the rolled up sleeves on her blouse, sat on the edge of my bed and held my hand, "This is going to be harder than you imagine but easier than most people have, Josette."

I looked into her ocean blue eyes, the new gentleness of her face, "Thank you, but... Are you never going to call me... Maggie, my friend?"

The wrestling of Sarah within me halted. Did she know? Did my baby understand?

"It's been hard for me to accept your coming back to us," Angelique bespoke, looking down and through me.

"And you never, _eve_r come back so repeatedly, do you, Angelique?"

She grinned heartily, patting my hand, "You've always loved to tease your friends, haven't you?"

Sarah began pushing for attention and I gasped. Everyone who was standing in the room took a step in concern but I waved them off, "It is only one contraction out of many, everyone."

And my friend squeezed my palm, "You're doing fine."

"I thought I was," I told her.

"But it doesn't hurt to be reassured... mademoiselle," she nodded with a sweet wickedness there was no fear about. She touched me at the abdomen to which all in the room jostled at for watching. They couldn't believe my friend would be kind to us in this precarious moment, but _I_ did.

"And you haven't touched an ounce of blood?" she asserted.

"No, only plasma and cytoplasm, which our hired help was so good to find for me," I nodded in the direction of the butler... who of course, only wears black.

As it turns out the red blood cells would have nourished my immortal state of being enough to carry it forward to the _next_ generation. Red blood cells nurtured the flexible nature of our existence now, as well as the stability of our shaded life. But without them baby Sarah would hopefully become what we strived so hard to reach for her; a mortal, unlike my husband and I. Our baby needed to have the life she never had. To become a full grown woman and experience the time with us and our family that she never had before.

Sarah Collins died at such a young and tender age. My dear friend, Angelique recognized this, and I allowed her to help, she wanted to help, because she finally and fully understood that she had been the cause of Sarah's death in her previous life. And my friend wanted to make good out of the wrongs she had caused.

This nourishment was not so simple a thing to provide me with. Dr. Hoffman and our Wadsworth took great pains to make sure I had enough every week. Whatever food I could eat, Sarah would be fed with more than would nourish me. To eat was a luxury of that regularity Barnabas and I still enjoyed. But what would sustain both I and Sarah was the blood with the removal of certain elements, however much I starved for those elements... I knew that I could endure what I needed to in order to give Sarah the life she never had, and even if she understood what her father and I were later, she could make that choice if she wanted to live the way we did. It was truly **that** important to give her the choice, and in order to do that, we had to bring her into this world _again_... as a mortal baby girl.

Our child's new birth, as Sarah Dupres in this century, was the biggest good she, Angelique, could do. I, myself, knew that in all of what had happened, this was the time to trust Angelique, showing she could help to make right all of what had gone wrong before. Even with Willie arguing against it, Barnabas explained, about what I had expressed then, to Willie, _"I suppose she would know how to make decisions considering who she decided to live with... considering... you and I..."_

The blue eyes of my midwife focused on where she'd placed her hand at my abdomen as she uttered, "Shh-shh-shh-shhh..." All in the room went silent and then, "Her heart rate is good, very good." How could she tell, one may wonder? Yes, once a Witch, always a Witch.

I looked up and saw Willie, sandy hair a wave around his ears and his coat collar turned up into those wisps, he at the doorway still looking nervous as he gripped at the frame. My gaze toward him caught his understanding and he nodded, "All right, everyone. It's likely time to head downstairs, smoke six packs of cigarettes and wear out a circle on the carpet of the main _room_ together."

By this time Carolyn had vaguely come-to and Victoria was lifting her up to exit. As those three shuffled away our butler remained, holding the knob of the door, "Should you need anything, Sir?"

Barnabas turned, catching this offering, "I will let you know, Wadsworth. I promise you, _I will_."

"Very good, sir."

"And Wadsworth?" Barnabas stalled him.

Wadsworth's eyes turned towards the one employer who would be a better friend to him than any he'd ever been employed by, "Yes... Sir?"

As heartfelt as my husband would ever say it, even to me, "_Thank you_."

Blinks of understanding, and that which to remove a mist coming to his eyes, Wadsworth nodded, "You... are welcome... Sir."

The door shut and as Barnabas took in the bedroom and all of us together once more, the three ladies in his life that had brought him the most suffering and the most joy, I realized _here_ was the place he'd kept so sacred for me, and in doing this he was forced to face... _himself._ Angelique, Sarah, and I were likely the utmost components for the turmoil of his life. I existed as the triple face of his love, but between us all were the three faces of loves changeability in his life. Finally, we were complete in working together to absolve it for him. To stand there... Barnabas Collins could _not_ be as calm as he looked.

"Are you still afraid, Maggie?" he questioned, folding his fingers together.

A tear began to slip from my eye, and my breathing was jagged "as much as you obviously are... _mon demón."_

His memorable gape of melancholic exasperation came up and as I reached out to him, Angelique waved her right hand, as if scolding him, "Get over to your wife's side, you _bewildered_ old thing!"

Barnabas took no umbrage at this, removed his coat, and stretched his hand to grasp mine as he came forward, sitting at my left side. Our arms encompassed each other as another contraction began to build-up. This one _did_ hurt!

I grunted and squeezed him tight. One arm was across the back of my shoulders, cupping one in his hand, the other hand taking my head with that loving concern and pride he'd shown me so many midnights we'd already shared on this bed. The pressure subsided and for one minute I was happily present in his embrace, having so many more I'd felt to reflect upon. Our baby was within me and with all of us here, in my room. This was meant to be; as we had promised _he and I_ were centuries ago.

Stretching out my right hand, it found Angelique's, who grasped and shook it as a way of telling me whatever I needed, go ahead and do. She had her own husband now and no longer detested the love Barnabas and I had for one another. She'd come a long way. So I pulled back from the closeness and found more as I kissed him, as passionately as possible for as long as this tiny moment would endure. He responded to this, holding my head closer and reaching in a way that I needed, to distract me from the extremity of any pain that might come. All three of us were one again, as we had been at Sarah's conception.

But what was my friend doing, releasing my hand as she looked towards my hips in this moment? Expressing a jealous reaction? No. Angelique was lost in the softest and warmest of smiles. She no longer worried about Barnabas, although she was thinking of someone. Her own husband: Quentin Collins. And perhaps her own child, Caleb... she knew, my friend knew what was in store for her in eight months time from now.

A deep inhale came from me, and Barnabas gripped the back of my skull asking, "What do you need, tell me what you need."

A clasping of our hands was my answer as I pushed. My dear friend and midwife felt down toward my vitals to reach for where our child was finally coming out.

"Head first, please tell me she's coming out head first."

"Of course she is... Maggie... I see it... can you push again?"

I was breathing in and out so hard I was worried I'd injure my husband's eardrum as I held on to him. I knew this was nothing to what many mothers endured, but as we held fast to one another I was sure we would be through it soon.

Between all of the pressure, I could feel my friend glaze a warm moisture below, likely some form of natural oils she suggested but I was not likely to ask about now as the pressure grew stronger and stronger and I pushed down, striving to release our child away.

I felt her palm over Sarah, "Her heart rate is still wonderful, Josette, don't worry."

I felt a sudden flow release from my insides and shouted over my husband's shoulder, "Angelique? What's going on?!"

"Just a large amount of fluid, very good. Very, _very_ good. Josette. You're both doing fine, don't' worry."

I could tell something was spluttering out of me, and was thankful as our friend explained it to me.

"Barnabas, turn her on her side," she directed.

He moved me so that I faced him, laying on my left, and then a sudden pressure engrossed me completely to _scream_ into his vest. He held my head and proclaimed, "Go ahead, let it out, my dearest, don't be afraid, just let it out."

I did.

"I'm going to pull open your cervix now, are you ready?"

I grunted here, "Yes, _do it!"_

She did, and the pain erupted as a searing of flesh would. I screamed, mouth wide open as I pushed.

Suddenly I heard a voice in my mind, _"I am all right, Mamma... I'm all right."_

That was when I knew I could go through this for however long it took, and it only took twenty more seconds before I heard her little voice howl with my own corporeal ears.

"She's out, she's here," Angelique announced.

The door burst open, and that voice I knew so much calmer these days was as shaky as it would ever be again, "I can't take it anymore! I ain't passin' 'round cigars. I can tell she's here. I wanna hold her! Now!"

_Willie..._

"It's just as well," Angelique confess allowed, "I need the help! Come over here and hang on to her. I have to cut the cord."

And as I could focus on the possibilities I knew, Sarah was a bluish or pink and smothered mess of a baby, her godfather's tearful words were fitting, "Oh... she's... she's all messed up now... just like me..."

After I heard the snip of the shears I knew he was taking her over to one of the basins to bathe her, and I trusted Willie to do so.

My dear friend and midwife worked so hard on cleaning and repairing all my lower parts, as Barnabas kissed me and spoke into my mind, "Thank you, Maggie, thank you for returning to us as yourself, as Josette, and giving us our child, the little girl we lost so long ago. I told you that you were my splendour, but you may never deny to yourself, that now, you have done what no one else could ever, _ever_ do, my one-true-love."

As he had done for me, and as I kissed him back, I returned, "And my own, Barnabas Collins."

Sarah's bathing was complete and Willie had the honour of presenting our daughter, swaddled in a baby blanket, to her father. The connection was instant and Barnabas was grinning at her with both elation, and some small tenderness of sorrow for that past the two shared. As he sat down beside me we touched her together, a blend of caution and passion between the three of us on my bed.

"Well," Willie pressed his hands to his hips, happy in the muck that was splattered here and there about his clothing, "if no one is gonna announce it, I will," then softly and shakily, "It's a _girl_."

* * *

Keeping a nodule of awareness to my husband as Willie helped me cradle Sarah at my breast to feed for the first time, I looked at the tiny wonder of her and listened to what happened as Barnabas tucked Angelique into her coat downstairs.

"I think I proved myself as well as I could. Don't you, Barnabas?"

"Very well, Angelique. She was right to trust you as..."

"No one else would?" Angelique asked, pointedly. I didn't blame her.

"After everything, you-"

"I understand, Barnabas, more than anyone else would." She buttoned up her coat and I could see her looking somewhat angelic _and_ devilish at the same time, happy to rub his nose in the disbelief that she, herself, could change, along with the rest of us.

"But, Angelique, what has this done for _you_?" asked my husband.

"I? I knew I could do it. Delivering babies is no small matter, but delivering a renewal of someone touched by my old wicked deeds concerning you? I wanted the challenge. No modern lady doctor was going to take _that_ away from _me_, Barnabas Collins."

The weather had subsided to a calm of gentle mist outside and I could sense her reaching for the door.

"Thank you, Angelique," he uttered, "you _have_ changed, obviously, and we could not do this without your help."

She shifted in wonderment, "Why? With the proper training, almost anyone could have done what I did."

"But it would not have been _you_, Angelique. That was what made all the difference. And Maggie knew that. _That_ is why it was so important for you to help us tonight."

"Can I tell you something, Barnabas? Something you may not believe?"

He stirred in a loss for words, then a moment later said, "Yes."

"I love you... and I mean that now. I was _in love _with you before. I was obsessed with you. I wanted to be a Collins and now I am all the same, but that's not the point. I'm not in love with you anymore. I care about you, deeply. Can I tell you why?"

My husband, I could hear his heart flutter in confusion at this, he dared to ask, "Why?"

"Your baby was in your arms, in her arms, you held each other, you kissed each other, and you know what I felt, after all of these many decades and centuries?"

"What, Angelique?"

"I felt happy... I did... I felt happy... for _the both of you_."

They embraced and as I held my daughter close, I smiled at Willie and he smiled back, not knowing half of what I held in knowledge or had reason to smile at him about, but his kiss on my cheek, and his attentiveness was enough for all of us in this Old House of ours, now filled with love to the absolute brim.

As Barnabas ascended the stairs, I could foresee what was about to occur when my beloved friend, Angelique, finally arrived home to her lighthouse, wherein Quentin was waiting for her with all the love he himself never knew he was capable of.

"What happened?" she would ask of him.

"They made it, all three ships are fine. I even shared a snort with one of the captains who came to thank me. Are you impressed?"

She'd laugh, "Yes, Quentin. I am. But I suppose that is more than what _I_ did tonight."

And he would stare at her with that penetrating gaze I remembered a century ago as Kitty Soames, "No, I don't suppose anything could hold a candle to bringing Sarah Collins back into this world as Sarah Dupres, my dearest Angelique."

And Quentin would grasp her in his arms tighter than any of the loves he'd experienced, for this was the one that held beyond the rest, the charm and perseverance that matched his own.

She would stroke his face, still growing in the sideburns she fingered, to tantalize him with all she had to offer and they would kiss as passionately as I knew in my own marriage. He would feel her abdomen as Barnabas had felt mine in that same wonder of what was to come. We had Sarah now and they would have Caleb and someday our children would be like brother and sister.

"Are you curious what will happen when she helps to deliver our child here, my husband?"

Quentin laughs, "I am sure it will be almost exactly as what you went through tonight with them, depending on who can reach where we sleep together, my dearest, my angel." Quentin kisses her with that same passion he is so well to distribute, "But they shall have to be careful, for our little one will be the pistol... that I know... _you can be."_

As they stand there at the bottom room of the lighthouse, I know for sure and certain, that their passion tonight will be exemplary to all the nights I've shared with my own love, Barnabas Collins.

* * *

_One Love... One Heart..._

_Let's get together and feel all right._

_Hear the children cryin' (One Love!);_

_Hear the children cryin' (One Heart!),_

_Sayin': give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right;_

_Sayin': let's get together and feel all right. Wo wo-wo wo-wo!_

_Let them all pass all their dirty remarks (One Love!);_

_There is one question I'd really love to ask (One Heart!):_

_Is there a place for the hopeless sinner,_

_Who has hurt all mankind just to save his own beliefs?_

_One Love! What about the one heart? One Heart!_

_What about it all ? Let's get together and feel all right_

_As it was in the beginning (One Love!);_

_So shall it be in the end (One Heart!),_

_All right!_

_Give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right;_

_Let's get together and feel all right._

_One more thing!_

_Let's get together to fight this Holy Armagiddyon (One Love!),_

_So when the Man comes there will be no, no doom (One Song!)._

_Have pity on those whose chances grows t'inner;_

_There ain't no hiding place from the Father of Creation._

_Sayin': One Love! What about the One Heart? (One Heart!)_

_What about the - ? Let's get together and feel all right._

_I'm pleadin' to mankind! (One Love!);_

_Oh, Lord! (One Heart) Wo-ooh!_

_Give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right;_

_Let's get together and feel all right._

_Give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right;_

_Let's get together and feel all right._

(-Bob Marley)

* * *

_Yep! That was a tough one. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Let me know if you did. Thanks._


	37. Chapter 36 Our Baby Sleeps But We Do Not

Chapter 36: Our Baby Sleeps, But We Do Not...

Upon the birth of my daughter, which I understand is a reincarnation of my long-lost and beloved sister, a formation of even more trembling stirred me into absolute and utter bliss, especially now that a once-enemy had helped bring her to us. However, no uncertainties made me wonder of our baby girl. Truly, I had been almost as far apart to her in age as a father might have been. I would now go through all I had gone through again when helping her with my own mother, Naomi Collins. And... would I be afraid of reliving this in strange astonishment? No. As all the things in the life that I craved through the centuries, I would _welcome_ it. The bewilderment would be a pleasure.

When I ascended the steps after our midwife, Angelique, had left, and shut the door of Josette's... _Our_ Room, I finally let the words fall from my lips, that which I was so afraid to let fall, "We... are all friends... now."

Maggie raised her head to face me from where she had tenderly stared at our child as she held her, looking toward me between that gentle, lost expression of the faux Josette of her kidnapping, and then with the grin of all that was Maggie Evans, forming into the widely smiling Josette Dupres, my beloved bride. And so, side-angling her head, she cherished these words, while my dear friend Willie Loomis made preparations to explain all that had gone on to our entourage in the main room of our home.

Further events moved along as could be expected. Each member of our estate was cautious when approaching to get a glimpse of her, but each wore a smile of delight. There was a Christening, a few speculations of this French custom to the wife's maiden name, which Maggie reclaimed, and had laden to our daughter's last; Dupres. I told those in my family at the main house that my only question to it was how the tradition came to be. I had no inquiry to its purpose. A mother's name, a daughter's name. It made sense. But I still wanted to tack on that middle one to Sarah I had pronounced to her before, "Makepeace", for she did.

Yes, we counted her tiny and splendid fingers and toes while sitting before the fire downstairs. The finery of her hair, the delicacy of her flesh was the joy of our existence. We touched Sarah fondly at all minutes and hours we were conscious, stroking her face, changing her under things, and fretting over her temperature to what we were dressing her in. We sat together, Maggie nursing Sarah as the tiniest of creatures I once remembered, and when she was tired of cradling her head to her bosom, I felt blessed to enact this for her.

I couldn't resist, in this gesture, cautious of my own grip, to anoint from the neck to the ear of my reborn Josette, kisses as tender as I held our child's head in my palm. And Maggie would inhale so beautifully in response, all bringing a stimulation to her system, feeding our child more easily than before.

My Maggie nearly choked in tears as she viewed our infant at her breast, "Pop tells me it wasn't always so simple with me. But I realize magic, and accepting the life of this type, would bring so much more than anyone could expect."

Wrapping my arm around the back of her shoulders, I had to question, "Why _did_ you accept it, Margaret?"

"Oh," she shuddered in that laugh I knew so well, "after recognizing who I was, and all of me, all the questions plaguing me throughout this life, seeing I'd been taken from two other lives and I so young? Exploring the answers and finally _having_ them to explore with all the time before us? Our lives are too rich in mysteries. And..." she looked up from our child's eyes and into mine, "I promised you our destinies were one. I knew you hadn't meant to hurt me. There had to be a way out as I'd been striving to discover. Why let go of all of that love we reached for in some far off longing toward the ordinary? You and I know, Barnabas, the ordinary doesn't really exist."

"No," I shook my head, "certainly not when it comes to you and I."

Our lips met and that journey of months side by side without our union surged within me to hope for it again. As her tongue slid to mine and our thoughts spoke to one another, I recognized her heart was yearning to explore that understanding with me once more. She desired me and our curiousity about each other returned. (We all know to lose ones curiousity of a lover is to lose much of the love shared together.)

Up the stairs we carefully went; all three of us.

* * *

We had situated the crib close enough to our bed so we could keep a watch on our lovely re-creation. As little Sarah lay therein, she was so like I remembered the first time when I held her in my arms as a young man.

Many are called a miracle, but for me she truly was. For so long my own mother had not brought up a child beyond myself. In that day Sarah finally arrived. I marvelled then and I marvel now. The eyes of an infant are so blue, a colour the oceans ought to be but so seldom are when one stares, except between the brilliant reflection of moonlight in the evening as we shared from the cliffs or at the windows from the top story of our dwelling.

I looked up watching my bride who had put forth so much effort to take my simple seed and with our enjoining create such a splendour of unification. How I love and adored my daughter and I had one woman to show this gratitude to: Margaret Josette Dupres.

Maggie smiled and tried to be dismissive but I would never let her. Her hand was on the crib and my hand crept upon her filled breast. She looked down, "That's hardly an area of pleasure for you and I alone any more, my dearest."

"And I won't argue," I smiled, observing the auburn brilliance of her eyes, "you are the wonder and resplendence of all that I wanted and all that I saw." I held her by the back of her arms above the elbows, "Do you have any idea what you've done for us and why I wanted you so desperately?"

"Yes," she finally admitted, "but it is as I told Victoria when we sat together all of those years ago. She wanted to help me and I told her that she did... _by listening_. And that is all that I have done Barnabas. I listened... as you have done... with me."

She accepted my kiss, but as I made good to advance further our little lady expressed the need of attention. We turned to the crib and my motherly bride stretched down her ivory hands, scooping to lift our little one into her arms, cradling her close. My fingers sweeping across Sarah's supple forehead. The apricot cream of her flesh ignited a desire in me to always keep her safe, and with the powers her mother and I possessed, we knew we could protect her throughout her entire life.

"Breathe and hush, my daughter," she murmured, "we are here. Your days will be filled with little pains but greater joys," and Maggie's eyes lifted to mine in assertion that I confirm her words. I caressed the top of Sarah's head in all adoration. I do uphold the words of my Josette re-born. No other two could locate my heart and give me the freedom in sensuality nor the romance I craved. The loves I aspired to, and the tender affection I had been dying to display was designed on these two beings alone.

Taking Maggie into my embrace, she held Sarah to my chest. I reached down and kissed the tender flesh of yet another renewed bliss into my life. My God, even _the smell_ of Sarah was the same as I remembered. Light and fresh and sweet and I had little concern that my sister from one existence was now my own daughter in another. After the torment we had been through, and considering our difference in age, everything was corrected. Our father had been rather dismissive but I had never been. Yes, I _was_ her father now. In a way, perhaps I always held that station in my feelings for her. Sarah's loss had been the downfall of my world. Our reclamation of her to this life brought us all back into oneness.

My child's tiny, infant cries were silenced in my kiss. Ladling her from my bride, I put her to rest in her small bed once more. Standing back up, Josette crept down her hand and reached into my silken robe, sliding about my skin with that same curiousity to probe my nerves and search for signs of interest. It had been quite some time since we'd joined and I had no small yearning for her. Holding her other hand and pressing it to my lips I jested with her, "In a hurry to bring us another child?"

"No," she returned, her face bearing that smile I knew century after century, "Now that we have her, the only birth I want to bring is that love we've shared for so long before."

"Are you not shy knowing she's in the room?" I teased.

"No," said my bride, "no, she'll be none the wiser. From what we've witnessed she is a very sound sleeper. Besides, there were those nights she grew within me... just as you did."

How my insides ached from these confessions. What love I never dreamed I deserved but longed for was here before me. Margarette had this method of expressing such things that are often heard with repugnance, but for us would tender all that was sacred in love. My bright beauty stood before me and as I reached up to caress her clavicle I found my fingers weaving beneath the delightful cloth in which she was draped. As the material folded back, her shoulders, so precious to me were revealed and as she untied the cloth belt at her waist it all fell away and she was naked before me once more.

_"Didn't she have a nightgown on underneath?"_

I thought this, and she answered my thoughts, "No. I was so busy nursing I ended up nodding off in my robe."

Next she fingered the strap at my own robe. I let my arms straiten so I could join her in this. The air from the hearth fire and candles began feeding what warmth my discarded clothing took away and I swung my head to inspect the door. A satin drift of her hand across my cheek brought me back toward her gaze, "It's locked, Barnabas. I already checked."

I inhaled sharply, crouched down quickly to catch her slim but voluptuous form in my arms and take her to our sanctuary; her bed. The linens were turned down, the toes of her feet slipping into the folds and I wondered if her own folds would be as welcoming to our union once more.

I stood before her as she was laid down, the edge of the blanket at her hip, and she stretched out her hand to invite me toward her, "Oh, yes," my Josette exhaled, "I'm well healed and our baby sleeps, as we shall _not_ for a long while now."

I gestured for room, gazing in awe. Maggie moved to her right and she did so as I moved beneath the linens to lay beside her, arched myself over to greet her lips and feel the ribs beneath the grown womanhood she now possessed above. (This was to nurture our child and not me, I knew.) She inhaled as I massaged that area and I found myself tasting the flesh of her side closest to me. Coursing to reach her hip and then kissing her smoothness back upward again.

What I knew now I had always wanted to know. What I saw in the past, a future with Josette lifting concerns for myself and my family by being a _part of it_. It took longer, a stretch of unfathomable time to me then, but here we were _200 Years Away_ from when we first met, from the 18th century and into the 20th. We were together at last and the love I sought kept me sated, but led me to hunger for her again and again.

* * *

To touch her now, I was recalling so many shadowy but amourous mornings of comfort in a half-asleep state beside her. Maggie's back to my front, my knees bending below hers, and our arms coiling in as many softening affectionate arrays as there were visible stars above our heads when we had to feed on beasts in the dark nights. One of my most beloved positions; us on our right sides facing the firelight on her bed, my left arm under hers, our wrists across her bosom, her left folded inward, fingers entwined with my own below her chin. Her right arm was bent upward as she rested her cheek upon it, and along the pillows was my right hand woven around her own. There was a state of utter bliss I could fade into and out of from dream to consciousness fused by this marriage we both held so dear, both passionately desirous and sated by living in the existence of it.

* * *

I brought myself back to the present as I suckled on her ribs and she pleaded softly in excitement. How oddly lovely in this; the fire crackling and our baby cooed in a hum behind me. I turned and Maggie lifted herself as we looked over to the cradle. No stirring could we see, but a strange utter in a half-cough, half-laugh. Sarah was fine, and so fine as she was with us in our room as we were making love again in smaller ways.

Beading my fingers to my bride's ribs where I'd tasted her, what flight in empyrean splendour was to be ours once more? I had been cursed to the night alone. Now she and I were blessed in a vampirism of twilight and shade, a world in between and sharing so much more. Was Josette as hungry for me as I was for her? _More so_ as she told me,

"I haven't fed in months, _mon demón_."

I stopped remembering those nights before, gently resting my hand on her breast, swollen with nourishment in her new motherhood. She let her hand find mine here, caressing my fingers approvingly as she did so.

"You_ have_," she uttered, looking into my eyes.

"Yes," I answered, "On the docks again..."

"And you did again what you've done before," she smiled, "you didn't take an innocent. You protected one, didn't you, Barnabas?"

I had to question her with some reproach, "Is it so easy for you to say that, my dearest?"

"Of course," she nodded confidently, "that's what this new life is meant for us. To be better."

"But what of the man? Again I have killed, and felt a tremor of my old evil."

"And what would have happened to her if you hadn't intervened, _mon demón_? She would have been hurt. She was worth saving. _He wasn't."_

Her fingers stroked my wrist now and I watched in awe. There had been and would be so much tenderness in this soft berth of hers. I was losing my desire in these thoughts of morality, knowing it was three nights in a row I'd fed on such people as we were discussing now. Hardly a romantic conversation.

And, of course, Maggie heard my inner reflections.

Smiling, she looked up at me, "Don't be downcast, my Barnabas. You have something that I need."

Three nights in a row I'd fed on the cruel. But I kept feeling shame when the newspaper headlines attracted attention to it. Then only to be confused downstairs, as Maggie nursed our little one while reading in a tired evaluation, "I see. Looks like the gossips around believe these were treacherous deeds. You've done splendidly, my dear." Then she would sigh, dropping the paper, "It _is sad_ that the world is filled with such rotten people, but after living here, dealing with so much deviltry, trying to find some way out of the disgust I felt in being helpless about it... if this is _all_ that works..._ **fine**_," and she stroked Sarah's head as our child drank from her breast, "I'll accept a gruesome answer rather than no answer at all."

And in this memory, Maggie watched me from her pillow as I relived it, laying below me, "Still the reluctant vampire, Barnabas? How long will it be before you accept this along with me?"

Her miraculous face, so smooth and warm, so self-assured as she'd always been in all three lives. Yes, that was from whence the confidence sprang; she'd lived three lives and was aware of them all.

"If what I've done can provide you with solace?" I wondered, hopefully.

Josette moved her hand and grasped my bare shoulder, "Allow me... your throat... my love. Allow me to feed freely on what you have to offer, and feel so much remorse over. I'll take that burden from you."

As I leaned in toward her I concluded, "As you so often do, my Josette."

All was still in the room until I gasped as she pierced my flesh once again, my grip on her breast from this agony brought a moan from her as she drank. The blood and the sorrow was coming out, it was all coming out. Three nights, three deaths, and one love allowed to have what she couldn't in nine months of pregnancy, holding out to keep our child from what we were, to keep her mortal if it was possible and it was.

What surge in this giving as Josette drank from me, I focused on my own heart, concentrating on what she took and what I'd always wanted to give her; nourishment. _Take from me, my love, be fed again. If my suffering allows you any joy, I'll suffer an eternity for you._

Hot liquid was flushing into her system, quantities I'd taken were hers now, another part of my being reaching her inner depths. Josette finally released herself. She inhaled while I exhaled and looking down at her blood soaked fangs, she was glowing, thriving. My heart was relieved of the guilt I'd felt, to watch her brightness shimmer in the firelight.

"Can I have the rest of you now, my husband?"

Could she? _Always..._

Caressing my throat, she watched as her wounds on me closed and healed, and as they did my passion re-ignited for her from deep within my chest to my vitals. I throbbed in my heart and below, stretching my hand to her inner thigh, massaging there and held her head in my other palm to bring her closer, to taste the inner flesh of her mouth, still with residuals of the blood that once flowed through me. A strange elation we perceived to be unified in so many ways.

In the sharing of blood we were combined, in the union of love we'd experienced our flesh, our minds spoke, our souls were united in the desire of so many conditions to what life meant to us: harmony, courage, destiny, serenity and the need for each other. We were now, we were our history, our future and both being a part of the occupant in the cradle beside us, a further symbol of our identity. Maggie, as Josette and _more_ than Josette. Clutching at her thigh, her moan vibrated along my lips as I kissed her and drew her in stronger. A mist formed at my eyes as I pulled away and we both began to say, "thank you", but it trailed off and we were caught in a soft laugh together.

"What were you thanking me for?" I queried.

"For your love and our child," she gleamed pleasantly, "what were you thanking _me_ for?"

The hand that was on her thigh reached up to hold her face.

"It was the same from me, my love," and I kissing, "my beautiful," kissing her again, "Josette," and again, "Kitty," and again, "Maggie Evans.

Gazing down upon her, watching as she closed her eyes and an expression of peace spread over her. I asked her why.

"Can you not feel it, _mon demón_? There's no need to look, just listen."

The connection was almost instant, the tiny sounds of relaxed breathing, and knowledge of unconsciousness. I smiled at my bride, "She sleeps, she dreams."

"Yes," Maggie beamed softly, the firelight from the candles and hearth flickering over her chestnut tresses along our pillows, "we won't be interrupted, will we? Neither the two of us nor she."

"Not at all," I agreed, in the softest of tones, and rested on my left as she turned to face me more, stroking me along my hip and chest, "but what fascinates me, is feeling, as a father now, so much gratitude, so much mystery. I become lost between my wonder at her and my desire for you. Such different forms of adoration and longing in the _same room_..." I let my fingers drift up her stomach, through to her collar and down to her wrist as she shivered at my touch, our hands clasping between our thighs. I leaned my face to slide about hers, "I can hear you, Josette. You're feeling this, too, aren't you?"

Her nose, lips and breath were slipping along my own, creating a tingling around my ears and reaching down my neck and throughout parts of my back. Smelling a bouquet of Josette in all her parts, and now a little laced throughout the room was the scent of our renewal and creation. And I could sense those feelings from her that I'd pondered; being lost between our love in carnality and our love in that which we begat.

My grip took her around the shoulder blade to wield her in a kiss. And as we engaged deeply to the flesh inside each other, I felt her hand at my back. Forming the words between our minds, _"And so our love grows farther, richer, more intense, more complex."_

Maggie pursued me physically and thought back, _"All you had desired centuries ago, weren't you? What would happiness **be** like? It isn't simple, is it, Barnabas?"_

Our tongues coiled in and our lips parted. I uttered, "No. Not simple, Josette. Never a goal to have conquered. A mystery to sweetly drift through. A journey that might never end. Even the half days we wake to, the nights we walk in, the mundane concerns of property and material possessions... all balance the yearning to be here with you, over... and _over_ again. When two people find each other, how can the love fade?"

My pulsating darling grinned, "Hmm... a lot can distract people... when they have something we don't require."

"And what is that?"

"Electricity."

My brown eyed beauty was making a joke, but I knew what she meant. Distractions, machines. The candles burned steadily and the fire's glow flickered about us.

"What would we need with electricity..." I explained, "when we can make... _our own?"_

* * *

_For those who heard the audio rough draft of this, I'm just gonna say it again, "Isn't that hot sh*t?" Thanks to Osheen Nevoy for both agreeing with that, helping me so much with the rough draft and giving the classic Bill Malloy nod of, "Ayup!"_


	38. Chapter 37: And As She Slept

_We return to the bedroom as in the previous chapter, direct and to the point (minus my author's notes). As one reader told me, this novel is like a cognac, it is not a page turner. Please take it slowly. Life is to be savoured, not guzzled down. I hope most enjoying this have a sweetie! If not? I think I understand some erotic musings on Barnabas Collins these days. As for myself, I just adore requited love in couples such as this one, as my new friends who are inspired by Gomez &amp; Morticia Addams deeply understand when I've expressed my troubles to them. _

* * *

Chapter 37: And As She Slept...

Staring down at Josette on the blue pillows; I caressed the softness of her flesh, the blessing of her presence, the beauty my bride held to me in as much as I wanted all of this, but to have it was another journey. I swept my hand from her velveteen hip to her ribs and watched her reaction of subtle excitement. Her bliss was _my_ bliss. Stroking her skin gave me tremors I could never take for granted. I looked, I stared at where I was touching her and the shivers that attracted me as my fingers coursed over her pleasing aspect. As much as we believe our dearest friends in the description of their lives, their loves; to see, to live it, is a _completely_ different experience. She had made me ache for her earlier as we bedded down our newborn child, and I was building up slowly and beautifully to our wants and desires together.

The blankets draped us now and as I moved above her I was participating with my dearest as she reached down, finding me, allowing my entrance once again. Always according to her dictates were we made to join and I would have it no other way. Her folds _did_ welcome me, as no doubt they would, and so did her delicious kiss, folding her lips to mine, her tongue above and under. How she utterly intoxicated me with what she could do at my mouth. It is without comparison.

My sweet Josette. Dearest Heaven above, Angered Hell below and the beloved lustre of who we were united between those two plains as we joined upon her berth. From our window the snow-light of the moon luminous on her cheeks, bringing yearnings to me as I'd known them before so many times and I approached her in such thankfulness to the night and its mysteries; Lunar precepts enlivening her under my downcast gaze throughout our togetherness.

In unison we shuddered and at last, we were as one again, after so many months in her blessing to us, our beloved daughter that slept so soundly nearby. The magnificence of Josette's being continued to startle me every evening we held close. I had missed her. All I had known of who she _could_ be... I was so correct, then so foolish about, but when I allowed my bride to be herself and express all three: Josette, Kitty, and Maggie. That last one being the brightest candle of my life, my life of which she now controlled within her, through all of our struggles, everything each went through, everything each contained, _made **one** of her._

And as I understood her inside and out, my love never wavered, and I was more determined to make her happy than when I was forcing that china-doll aspect of Josette on Maggie. What little I could recall of Josette I held fast to. But when I awoke from my long sleep? What one part of my past held the strongest in all I'd lost remembrance of? _My darling, my darling, my life and my bride. _She had been completely right. She should be herself, always. In my long sleep and agony I had forgotten; a woman with an indomitable spirit and the kindness I longed for in my puzzled, once forsaken, existence. Maggie could never be the rare elements I recalled of my Josette upon my return.

Again, of Maggie, for resisting this? I _am_ _proud_ of her. For in this Josette was also resisting those merest fragments I could conjure in my memory of her. She was far more than finance and flowers. To me she was the very embodiment _of_ love and represented my intensity for it. The truth of what I always wanted was her very soul entwined with mine as the ghost that kept renewing and changing and searching for me, and no aspect of her could ever be ignored.

My beloved listened to the emotions within my psyche as we pursued each other in wedlock, trailing questions of possibility, and I could hear her laughter, the delightful laughter even from the intensity of her mind. Josette wanted us to enjoy each other and perhaps leave it at that, but how could I enjoy this union so simply? Nothing about this marriage was simple. All that our hearts yearned for, _and_ were curious about now belonged to us... _us_... **_us_**. Blending, kissing, coupling naked under the sheets and unafraid for ourselves or our beloved progeny of old and new, as all three of us were together. Balance, renewal, harmony, love... we were _alive._

Under the softest coverings of her rich, brown bed, I felt her bare skin along mine, her stomach and breasts touching so tenderly my own as my arms clung to her soft beauty. Maggie's legs were wrapping around my tailbone already, not from more enticement of pleasure but from the comfort she wanted in resting her calves upon me. I welcomed this dearly and let her insides pull and push me deeper into her as our tongues collided; bespeaking the words of passion we had been starving for during her pregnancy. Josette, all parts of her and I, were one again, and that beautiful enrichment to my life brought all thankfulness to my heart. I could smell in the odour of our sheets, which covered us, inhabiting a sense of security I now knew many shared in this kind of love-making.

My fingers sought to explore all the concavities along her torso, the curvatures engendered upon her rich delicacy with my thumbs, the hollow of my hand creeping along her shapely stomach. Josette's response? An utterance between dream-slow laugh and virile cry as her hand sank further into the blue-washed pillow.

She and I adjusted gracefully to each other and the rhythm of our union returned. Her palms met the bends on my shoulder blades, fitting so well and then tracing the tips of her fingers around my back; Thrills of delight and excitement erupting in areas that went untouched from such caresses. How was that possible? To feel tingles, little explosions in other places while loving hands were tempted _and tempting_ elsewhere?

_What would happiness be like?_ My bride had asked, "not simple is it, Barnabas?" _Absolutely not. _As I was combined with her again, entering and re-entering the warmth of her, our kisses parting and meeting, I knew I had been right to choose this woman. Perhaps all of the suffering was how it ought to have been, to create so much more appreciation as we explored each other tonight, as well as so many nights previous to this.

Holding her close, our limbs enwrapt, thoughts of our histories floated through what we needed to conquer together, things made worse for us that were neither of our faults. I loved her through the centuries and now we were enjoying what we always yearned for: **each other**. In our marriage she'd inflicted pains on me I never knew. Josette struck me with violence, with joy, with passion, with anger, with revenge, and finally she opened our hearts to forgiveness. I had forgiven myself with her help. She sent her knowledge of me into my own consciousness as she drew my body further into hers. And with this forgiveness, she knew it was time to try for a child, and one that would hold the balance to all of us. As Josette had come back to us through her new life as Maggie, Sarah was now returned to us by them both.

Pushing my desire further within her, feeling blessed to do so, I lifted my torso and began pressing my lips along the flesh of her stomach, on her ribcage and between her breasts, tantalized by her neck as a shock of quickness poised her respiration, creating an avid pulsation between us. I loved being within her, being a part of her, knowing her as she knew me, knowing all of our suffering was not in vain. And healing from that pregnancy made her even more sensitive now. I let my fingers glide, drifting over her ribcage, her swollen bosom, she kept smiling and breathing in so much altered gasping, I could not help to wonder and stare upon the near-auburn beauty of her tresses in the amourous darkness and flickering firelight.

I was with her, I loved her so deeply, so strongly and her appreciation created a fascination in me that I never wanted to let go. The peach blossom delicacy of her skin as I stroked her flesh, the beauty of her shape as my arms were tugging at her shoulders and her legs enfolded around me, giving her hips into my thrusts, her inviting lips to my adoration of them, and I cherished the splendour, not just of her, but of _us_. All that I wanted, all that I saw and ached for, we were united and we were living within this elation so few knew or understood, but we both desired from each other desperately to have.

In so much love? How could others interpret a selfishness about this? The roundness of her shoulders as I fed on them with my lips, my fingertips, the firelight wavering over her kissable lashes, the tone of her colouring, the richness of her thews, that strength in her knees as she pressed them against the slopes of my torso. _God, how she enthralls me!_ Watching her jolt again and again as I exerted myself into her repeatedly; she gasped, she moaned, she spoke little wonderings as her strength to release herself around me grew and expanded. The energy of her enjoyment and glistening along her hair allowed me the invitation to drift my cheeks, inhaling the fragrance of her breath, her chestnut tendrils, all of who she is and was to me by now, my most reverent and sacred bride sharing this love together that we'd yearned for in almost two centuries time. A blessed angel among the living, just as our daughter was in this most recent birth to the estate.

* * *

Josette, always "The Dark Princess" of our home while she has pronounced me "The Dark Prince" and in that cradle Our Queen, however reversed it might sound. But much in this delectable and melancholy world resisted the rules of the contemporary. That is why the gleam of the flames and moonlight glittered the air of our lives with such beauty against so many memories of pitch-black horror. Our child as Queen and us her beholden Prince and Princess; Why not? We worshipped her more than we worshipped one another. Sarah, our child, our cherished delight in this crystalline mystery we were made to call "life". Both were my angels, and yes, Josette, my dark princess. Combined to oneself at last from so much separation in persona as her spirit stretched across time, space and individual lives...

Will I ever know who she is? Or in my wondering? Will I ever know who **I** am? When I touch her, when I expose myself to my most beloved beauty? Will I ever completely comprehend her? No... and perhaps that is just as well. When we know too much about each other the love falls into boredom and we are drawn outside from any curiousity left.

My Josette has been three people and more and she has blessedly drifted through the realms of my home, beyond my comprehension. I love her for more than any knowledge I might have pre-supposed. She has brought things to me I never knew I could have, showed me a life I never knew could have existed.

Did anyone understand that I, Barnabas Collins, could be a happy man? I suppose not. Perhaps not even myself. But I am now. I truly am. And I will continue to write of it. I think many of you are pleased to discover these pages I never meant to scribe. But I am pleased to write them, and genuinely glad to have people who care... and... read them. In keeping this journal I recognize previous entries spiralling upward in the joy we have with each other on every afternoon of our awakening together – kisses goodbye that promise kisses hello to come and abide by.

* * *

As I watched her, indeed as I looked upon myself in the reflection of her dark, but vibrant eyes, could I kiss or advance myself any deeper towards my beloved more than I already had? Pressing her lower embrace about me tighter and tighter, my hands curving along her shoulders, pressing herself down further to ease my entrance, as that warmth inside her invited me again and again, and feeding that warmth to me, vibrating throughout my entirety to the ends of my extremities. Startling breath flashing from my mouth against her ear... Who are we, you and I? What have we become in this starlight and darkness? The greatest love of all time? No, perhaps not. The greatest love between you and I? Oh, yes. I shall continue to pen these instances of our existence and how I feel about you.

My Josette, you are reading this now aren't you? Don't you know when I write these things I wish for you to peel my clothes from me and press your lips to the bareness of my shoulders and the flesh of my back? Don't you know that the burden of me below adores being inside of you? Don't you know that when I am with you, that is all that I begged for, all that I craved? Us being together and so joined within your very soul? As I kiss the downy flesh of your skin, our cores containing the root of all meaning in my life? Please touch these pages with your fingers, Josette, and then turn and touch me. **_Please._** I will love you forever and I will adore you ever so much more than I do now, _if such a thing is possible._

That night after we'd lain down our child, the delicious being we'd conceived, but was something we both knew in that previous century together, how could I love you more? I know not. All I do know is I was stroking the heavenliness of your arms, your frame, your legs and pressing my lips to your face as you reacted in ways that created even more growth below me to reach you. I have been fascinated by your ability to please me, and so fascinated in how I could please you.

How could it be possible? I have to wonder and marvel as I touch you in so much tenderness. Pliant depressions and curves from your throat, your clavicle which meets the roundness of your shoulders as I relish the flavour of your skin. Your slim, perfectly manicured hands that to one might appear delicate but held me easier and with more vivacity than any other woman's could... or _would._ You've always woven those blessed talons of yours into my hair, never being aware how it stimulated my desire.

Now I live atop you, within the splendour of your womanhood, and I look at you in the glow between us; tiny flames from the candles and the hearth of our room. I stare into the smile at your lips, the fingers of your hands as you clench the sheets, gasping, writhing and I have to wonder at my being capable of doing so much for you. It astonishes me. I had to kiss you further still, cupping your head, fingertips pressing under your hair as my thumb caressed behind your ear, wanting to show you and communicate so much of how I felt. You said our destinies are one, but now that I live it, I shudder if the ability of what I can do for you could _ever_ exist, no matter that I behold it with my own body and from the sight of my own eyes. Your charcoal lashes, your sharpened claws, your legs sliding along my sides as we join together so many times? Who are you, my beloved? How are these things possible?

My chest is littered with all the butterflies of the ages and they dance around my heart as we continue colliding. I stroking your cheek with mine, gathering your head, and bringing my lips to yours. Your nails sliding in passion down my back. Was this too harsh of you? As I lean back my head to take in a breath from the ecstasy... still, what does it matter? How can I tell? If there are wounds now, do you believe I care minus the thrill of some treasure in passion you've inflicted on me? They are lacerations of which to be proud.

Then, the taste of you as a flower liqueur comes over me, and our thoughts join in my proposal, that first one when you were still but a waitress and I'd come home from that other time I had to endure to win your heart and your trust again.

An opening door, a ringing bell, you turned in that almost sleeveless, almost skirt-less outfit.

"Barnabas?" you smiled, "You survived. You came back to me."

"And I almost forgot you, Maggie. Can you... forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive, _mon demón_. Sit down. Have a cup of coffee."

And as I grabbed your wrist and kissed its underside, I had to speak, "No, Josette. I wish to dance with you again."

And so we did. A tune I've learned as _"How Beautiful Is Night"_ gliding sweetly through the air as we danced slowly and softly together, and I remembered this because it was so close to the method of a dance we were sharing now. And your words in that night, as you were describing that I would never leave this time we finally found each other:

"Perhaps no one has said it before, Barnabas Collins, and so... I want to say it now. Welcome... to The Twentieth Century."

I _felt_ welcomed in threshes and droves, then and now.

You and I were one as our beautiful daughter slept soundly so near to us in tiny echoes of breath. You are the bride I'd longed for as the centuries elapsed before me, both abed in my coffin and later awake, fighting all the troubles that plagued our families. Now I was here with the two most beloved members to me in my existence. However supernatural it had to be. My new life as a father, within this House that once knew misery but now knew love and within you, my reborn Josette, we were all finally home.

* * *

As I write these words in my best script, wearing my silken robe, I see you in your own kneeling before the main hearth of our home together. Something we've managed to make blessed, watching our daughter grow, observing how the love has expanded over this estate, once so dreadful, but in the acceptance of darkness and the difference between true evil which is separate from what we have obtained, there is a life of happiness in shade and twilight. The moon isn't as cold as I came to believe in our journey. It shows a better view of change and regularity. Whatever wolves howl in the dark no longer touch us with terror, but the blessing of song.

I've raised my head briefly from this manuscript to look into another gift you put in the vase at my desk. White Periwinkle: _pleasures of memory._ Very encouraging considering what I do here. I must smile. How you obtain these blossoms, my Maggie, I know not. I've never looked at those expenses. I simply enjoy them knowing my dreams have been made real by your thoughtful attentions to me and... _to all of us_.

* * *

Again do I return to that night, your chin lifted and once more we were _sated in tandem_, our breathing once heavy, slowed and I bent down to kiss your neck up and up, sliding along the underside of your jaw until I'd finally found your lips again, somewhat chilled by so much air that had passed through, but still soft and smooth, and warming to my touch. I could feel your smile, which gave me one as I kissed you, Josette. Our eyes half closed but still gazing at each other.

Another sideways repose came as we released, moving the velvety blankets over to keep us concealed, stoking one another's faces in companionship. Invigorated by the blood I had shared and the love I had to give, feeling the tingles as that after effect changed you into something even more sensitive, our having ascended another flight of passion. I had to watch your half-closed eyes, parted lips in a smile, reaching to slide my hands wherever I could to bring you further pleasure. Almost anywhere would bring flutters to your entire being, as I observed with my eyes and the connection between our minds. I had to smile and drift about from your ankle all the way up to your shoulder as you faced me.

What did you do then, my love? Ah, that mischievous grin, bringing out the colour of your eyes to match your hair, you took my curling hand, and kissed the back of it. The pillows cradled our heads as we glowed towards each other. You surprise me no matter how often I think I know you. You've worn my onyx ring, you've taken cover in my long, black coat, and presented me with gifts in equal symbolism to what I've given you. Kissing my hand, even as I listened to your mind, I couldn't see it coming. How deliciously appropriate in both adoration and mirth.

As you have told me, _"If we can't escape the madness by running from the shadows, perhaps embracing them shall bring us solace."_

So in these shadows, as our baby sleeps, gently breathing, unperturbed, we too embrace. My arm behind your back, sliding between your shoulder blades, small shudders between our lips as we gingerly kiss three times. The fire crackles and I think, "Always easy to remember when it's three. Just as we are, just as you are, my Josette."

* * *

_If you're not too busy fanning yourself off, please express your favourite piece of enjoyment in the lower regions. :) (No "real" name necessary. This is the internet for crying out loud.)_

_As for people who don't enjoy it. Why the heck are you still here? Go bowling or something..._


	39. Chapter 38: My Life, Myself, My Child

_Little note: Sorry I had to give Willie's sweetheart even more of the fast-track in this than Maggie as Josette. All needs to be fleshed out more in the radio drama and with Nurse Jackson I have little to go on. (Unless there is something I missed that anyone would like to tell me. *wink*) I'd also like to dearly thank Veritas, Melissa and Lisa for accuracy notes and companionship in this work and the radio drama. And all the marvelous insight brought in with reviews new and old. They really need to be called comments or discussion. They tell about your observations on the journey and many artists share their work for that purpose. Thank you._

* * *

Chapter 38: My Life, Myself, My Child

I know the Sea... and She knows me. As Josette Dupres I crossed Her to reach my beloved. As Lady Hampshire I sailed on her twice only to discover who I was, and far too late. As Maggie Evans I lived beside it, looking into it, asking it, "Who am I? Am I as vast as you? And if so... aren't we all?"

On my wedding day, as well as the day after? What did the Sea have to say to me? "Yes." We all are as vast as She is. By this time She knew that I'd already discovered myself, as I'd been desperate to know for ages. And when it comes to true age in this marriage? Perhaps my dearest was in his coffin for over 170 years but in knowledge and experience? Who is the older of us?

I am.

As Josette, as Kitty, and as Maggie Evans? I am well over sixty years old. Barnabas? Hardly that by now. Oh, you think him masterful. _Mmm..._ sometimes he is. I know he's been outraged; his own beastly lusts have confused him. But with me? He stops, he deliberates, he is himself. And I adore him for all of this. He has been so brave, wary and destroyed, but the richness of his demeanour and poise returned and it thrills me every night and day.

As Josette, I was also occasionally shy, but as Margaret Josette Dupres? I smile, and I wonder, I welcome and I watch him as he watches me. I study the flowers and I bring their meaning into our lives. There is more than colour and fragrance here. Botanicals have often made the difference in health and strength to people all over the world throughout history. I don't know all of its history, but with the memories of having lived there I know more than most people, and so does my husband. I look over everything. He thinks the world of me. All right. I'll be that world in the wee hours for him, or in the afternoons when we awake.

Barnabas becomes anxious about leaving for any reason. As I'm writing a letter at my vanity and he kneels before me, he tells me, "You know... I always have a hard time walking out of those doors and away from you. I finally have you as my wife. All that we've gone through... Do you know how difficult it is to walk away even now?"

I put down my pen, look at him, kiss him deeply and tell him, "Of course, I do. But we must live now," then I touch his forehead and run my fingers delicately through his hair, "and remember, we are connected mentally. Everything is all right now. I promise."

The man made evil from torture and hurt is gone. The _gentle_-man is with us again. Am I pleased for our family? Of course. But I am happier for him.

He tenders his head on my breast, and I hold him close.

"Tell me you are mine... just repeat it to me," he quavers, almost weeps.

"You know that I am, but there is something more in all of this," I explain as he looks up into my eyes and asks what that could be. I must answer, "In all of the confusion of this life, my husband? You have offered me what no one else could. You have given me... myself."

Kneeling still, our hands bonded into my lap and I couldn't help but smile down, "You know... your hands were there... last night."

He let go, fingers gliding up along my thighs to my hips outside my skirt, imploring, "Wherever you'd like them to be, Josette, they will go."

Another kiss began and was disturbed by a cry. We both stood immediately and stepped to the cradle. I took our daughter into my arms, and he began holding us both.

"I cannot leave you now. Business matters are trifles compared to this."

"Ohhh," I uttered, disapprovingly, "a baby's needs are also often a trifle. Don't spoil us, Barnabas Collins."

"No, no," he proposed, "we have the ability. Let us listen. What does she want?"

Sarah kept crying and then as we watched her, doing what we could to hear how she felt? She stopped crying and opened her eyes wider, one of those babyish, open mouthed stares replacing the disturbance on her face.

Then we smiled. Oh, yes. This child would have all the love _and_ know it. What was it Sarah had wanted? She wanted to _be_ _heard_. With us and what we could do? She was heard. There was no question about it. At this I had to look up at him and give a smirk, "And you thought supernatural powers would make things too difficult."

He lifted his brows, "I stand corrected."

"So you do," I mused with a grin, "Now, off you go to the dull and mundane affairs. And be grateful that they are. It'll stir that longing between us. And there is much to do." One kiss to Sarah and I then off he went, but not without one more glance from the door, that half-open-mouthed adoration he kept when he was filled with hope, although now this was one without worry.

It was later in the afternoon that I completed my letter to our cousin who'd given this gift to us. One thing I noticed about her is she was rather… perky. Very different considering what we'd been through. After so much horror it was a 180 degree difference to see someone who had no qualms whatsoever with who she was. I still had qualms about it, so we continued to write.

She described that the need for blood was very low with her. Others in her immediate family were a bit more thirsty. The main thing to keep in mind was warding off those who cruelly treated others and as much as we hope they stop altogether, mortals are what they are, and our place in the world is to remove those causing trouble. As we are unfortunately reminded: There is always an endless amount of trouble.

* * *

This brought me back to a time Barnabas and I sat on the stairs of Collinwood together. The troubles we kept facing as we looked toward each other. Our hands clasped in my lap, as they were earlier today, and I had stared at him. He spoke, "Is it really you, Josette? Please, I don't wish harm to befall anyone anymore."

"Yes," I uttered softly, "it is I. I am Josette, but Barnabas? Do you love me for myself as well?"

"Maggie? How could I not? As you hold within you all of whom you are and who Josette is in this life? What is there not to love?"

"A girl of service? Not what you knew back in that time we shared together."

"A girl?" he quoted, "A woman. And one of knowledge beyond myself," he stroked my face as he professed this to me, "I am only one man. But you are something more now than I could ever have understood then. Long ago you were one woman, but now? You are three. Whose passions wouldn't be excited by that?"

That hand in my palm, I stroked the stone of his onyx ring, recalling when I'd worn it in our vow we'd been married when he slipped it on my finger. I saw my reflection in the gleam of his ring, but nothing like what I knew of myself. I was Josette Dupres and more now. My interview for the position of waitress was almost laughable as I considered how deeply my history was in this understanding. Dear Mr. Wells and all his pat declarations. Neither he nor I understood I'd journeyed from realms of past time, the daughter of fortune and the niece of nobility, only to humbly desire the job at a local food service establishment, when I had been destined to look over the richness of the estate that built this region.

So many of the answers were before me and I wasn't adrift anymore as I kept questioning myself. Here I was, here I am. And one staple of my identity was?

Loving Barnabas Collins.

There was no getting around it.

He and I sat on those stairs, we kissed, we held each other and we learned that whoever we are we had to remain together. We always came back to each other through all of it.

* * *

Our baby, Sarah, has not only begun to hold her head up on her own, but her cry could split the air like it never did before. It was painful once but we've persevered to reach that understanding with her. She had to communicate these needs with us and in our abilities we were often able to perceive more than many parents at odds.

I laid my pen down after signing it to our cousin. Sarah wanted attention. I had to turn my head and smile, lifting myself up to walk to her crib and scoop her again into my arms, kissing her tenderly as her cries softened to the odd giggles, coos, and hiccups of an infant.

"Little Sarah Dupres," I questioned her, "do you remember being our hope of the past? Do you remember being the flower girl at your future parents very wedding now that you have life again? Hmm, I have my doubts, but," here I cupped the back of her dainty head, stroking the newly growing, slender hair in my fingers, "what else shall we talk about now that I'm the only one who can find the words?"

The merest call of enthusiasm seemed to be her response. What could I translate from that? _Who am I?_ Ah. Don't we all make that inquiry of ourselves?

"One so young as you, my darling, needn't worry with such a big question. It will take so many decades to get close to understanding and then, there are always changes one has no control of to create something new in ourselves."

I sat down with her on the settee in my room. I found her tiny apricot hand and pressed my finger into it, watching her grasp it in return. Delicate fingers in all the lines of joint and complexity created in miniature. I had to look up to our bed and wonder at that night Barnabas and I conceived her with intension and heartfelt desire.

This place was the magic we longed for with that infusion of deciding some darkness was embraceable. It was necessary to deplete all the horror our constant panic kept causing. We weren't evil people in Collinwood, we were distracted away from the source of all that is good. Constant terror left no room for sound reasoning, except in a rare moment of blessed fortune.

A gentle tap on the door and I called, "Come in."

Willie Loomis, one wrinkle or two grown in the face since the stress of his god-daughter's birth, stepped in, vest buttons undone and tie loosened up as he usually was after a day at work.

"You're home early, Willie," I smiled at him.

"Yeah," he sighed, tiredly, "Braithwaite's furnace was acting up again. Couldn't get a single mould created like we'd been planning."

Sarah grimaced out a yawn and I asked, "No repairing it?"

"Not that I could make out," Willie explained, stepping over, "He finally switched to another pair of glasses and waved at me to take the rest of the day off and he'd find his own way home."

I had to chortle, "Still sound and chipper for a metal smith well over ninety years old."

Willie took a seat next to Sarah and I on the settee, "Braithwaite says he likes what he does and it keeps him vital."

"Want to hold her?" I tempted him.

"Sure do," he responded and Sarah was scooped into his arms. He shifted to keep from slouching, always did when it came to his god-daughter. Then he asked where his own wife was.

"Oh," I answered, "Cora's likely doing exactly what you're doing now; Holding a baby."

"Over at the lighthouse? That's grand to think of," he smiled into Sarah's wide eyed expression, "her and I holding babies in the same moment, y'know?"

"And none for yourselves, Willie?"

"Nah," he grinned, "with what we all share, two is more than enough to take care of. Anymore and things might get outta control again like they did before."

Willie unwrapped his god-daughter from the slim blanket she was held in and pressured a thumb to one foot and then the other, causing her to make stepping motions. One of these was almost a kick.

"There now," he wagged his finger at her, "don't go trying to injure me, you sweet angel."

"Then quit teasing her, Willie," I pretended to scold him.

"I'm not," he told me, "I'm doing this to practice her being able to walk. Can't blame me for encouraging that, Maggie, can you?"

"All right," I answered, "but I believe she'll start walking when she's firmly ready. There's no rush."

"After the furnace today and being sent home early," said Willie, "I _know_ there isn't. Any word on _Mrs._ Collins baby?"

"_Cranky_," I expressed, pointedly.

"Oh!" Willie laughed, "That stands to reason. Caleb's already showing his ire from who we knew as a crusty ol' spirit."

"Maybe he's just letting it all out early," I giggled, finding myself grasping at Sarah's cuddly toes, "or growing up in a lighthouse with all the noise is getting to him."

"Hey," Willie reminded me, "they're havin' it all fixed up with modern equipment now. That was the deal, right? They had to sort through the old ways of runnin' it and as soon as they was married and had a baby they could get the new fixtures squared away. Little Caleb won't have to suffer in that too long."

"I know, and good on that. I don't want him to go through more Hell after his ghost was so helpful to us. It wouldn't be right."

Willie nestled his god-daughter to his chest, "No, it wouldn't be right. I liked that fellow," then added quietly, "... well... after I got used to him... He could be a great little companion to our Sarah."

"A miniature of you, you mean, Willie?"

"I already told'ya that was the truth... _Josette Dupres_." He sighed, patting her on the back as she cooperatively burped for him, "We all need a little mischief in our lives to check ourselves against the pure."

Yes, Willie Loomis could even become a philosopher.

"That was why you married her, isn't it?" I inquired, stroking that bulge on the middle of my little one in Willie's arms. Cradling Sarah, she gazed in a vacant awe at him, reaching her fingers out, but he was tilting his head towards me, the delicate grin of enchantment he was able to find, with so much more glow in his life as a married man than once upon a time.

"You know that it is, Maggie Evans," he smiled, "You know that. Cora took to me like a plaything... an' I liked that," he nodded sideways, "I deserved it. But she's shown me through that and other things she taught me... she loves me, and she loves me for me. She's the one that taught me to hone my own mischief in better places than stealin' or greed, or what I'd gotten used to. No woman could do that but her."

I let a smile upturn one side of my lips, "None what so ever, Willie Loomis."

Sarah rebounded with some chuckling, stretching up her tiny hands.

All of a bundle, he lifted her toward me, "Here... she wants her mamma."

That wee being of joy I adored since I knew she was conjured through intention within me. The delicate voice of hers would return someday. But what would it say? The voice in hollows of laughter and coughs we kept hearing but wished so long would speak one word to us. From cradle to crib, Barnabas and I would lean and listen and wait but nothing in sound-of-word happened. Flutters of speech did, little baa's and empty syllables which kept us hopeful and anticipating. We could not rush her, but in our hearts we yearned for when she would entreat us with one thought. _Come, child, please speak._ What would Sarah say?

In my arms I had watched her angel hair grow in tufts and later in ringlets straitening into locks. It became thicker, she became stronger. She crawled for us. She tasted the world as babies do to evaluate the universe in front of them. I hated idleness but with my infant I never experienced idleness, nor grew weary. Motherhood was more fascinating than I was ever prepared for. And there were times I thought of my own mother in so many lives. I'd hold the delicate hand of our baby, Sarah, and look up into the ether, "Marie la Freniére, did you know this was to come? Maman, you must have known."

Every wrinkle of expression, every smile Sarah delighted her father and I with, each moment of time he and I explored each other in love and interrupted that exploration if she breathed one sound in her crib. All was important to us as a household, as an entirety, as a family, splintered from Collinwood as we would have to be at certain intervals, but still a part of it when we were able to remember we were but one branch of a hardy tree. The life irremovable from her to us, she would be our world as all outside intruders attempted to crash in.

And we... _destroyed_ them.

Barnabas and I would feed from their demise and look to our baby, our world, to understand: _This is all that does matter and **should**_ _matter. We have been given a gift, however much in darkness, to protect and preserve ourselves as well as this estate. One day our child may take that gift if she wants it but she will be given a choice, as we had to choose for ourselves._

* * *

In so much adoration her first birthday transpired without the expression we awaited, but we didn't worry. We were happy in our days, dreams, talks, tender moments, and occasional falls. News of the lighthouse being updated, further chambers in one home or another being investigated for items from the past, as Victoria still adored uncovering, baby Caleb getting less cranky, the ups and downs of the family business, Carolyn's publishing career connecting her with Schooner Bay, as always. The world kept us content and Pop's cottage stood, sometimes with him busy, sometimes with us in it; Finding those moments of bonding and sharing in our more down-to-earth Evans ways, with a French phrase or two. For me he was someone who shared this journey with me when I had any doubts.

Once I asked him why he persisted in always putting his paintbrush down when Sarah and I came for a visit. He had to chuckle, "Maggie Evans, if I pick that brush up and take to the easel with a baby in the house? One sharp cry will spoil a day's work and you know it... or, perhaps you don't know it. You, yourself, were only a little infant back then."

"Oui," I laughed, thankful to find his humour in the explanation.

Sure enough, a high-pitched wail came right out of Sarah and Pop had to announce, "There she blows!"

He rose from his seat, assessed the situation, and found a little prick on her foot, then coaxed, "Ah. That _sounded_ like pain..." Waiting for her to give out another cry and then holding her breath a spell, "You can now rest assured, Maggie, neither you nor Barnabas are the only blood-suckers she's encountered."

"What? Oh, no..." and there it was, either a flea or mosquito had found her.

"Plus, it's done enough to give her need for a nappy change. Mind if I see to that?"

"She's all yours," I sighed before another bellow from my little one pained me into a mist of worry. _My poor dear._ Still, the incident wasn't a bodily possession nor was it a ghoulish spectre sucking out her breath, so I had to feel easier in my mind. Our world had been filled with the kind of tragedy and disbelief that most would drop-dead from merely hearing about. My own first born getting stung by a tiny critter wasn't going to dissuade me from the contrast of feeling thankful.

After Pop cleaned her up, changed her and kissed her little wound, he brought out her smiles and even a chuckle somehow. I can remember a vast amount, but with three childhoods in tow, I wasn't sure which one I might search through to find a spot where he managed to win my own moods as a baby that way. We finished our coffee as Papa reflected on the strangeness of life and existence.

"If I had some forethought that all would come right once upon a time, I could never have expected your being kidnapped would be part of it. I was so blasted terrified for you. And then all the damned spooky stuff that kept happening... Made Devlin's return and Roger's car accident look mild in comparison."

"Burke Devlin came back for more than one reason, we know that now."

"Yes, because he wasn't only Burke Devlin, was he?"

"No, Papa, as neither of us is only ourselves." I smiled.

"Neither is Barnabas Collins. He gets to be incredibly complex as a _single_ individual, whereas the rest of us have to come to terms with two or three lives to pick up on our own."

"You make it sound like we're all blessed to have it."

"Blessings and curses go hand in hand. It's like the old tale of one tragedy leading to another success and then back again, and the man keeps asking, 'Is it good or is it bad? Who is to say?'"

"C'est la vie." I had to respond.

"C'est la vie en effet, Josette Dupres."

The journey home was notably free of danger. If danger was there I could perceive it in the air as dusk fell and a hunger would take me over. Prior to becoming pregnant, and then a mother, I allowed that surge to win out because I knew it was the way to maintain the safety we had striven so hard to achieve. I had died too young in too many eras to accept the return of more trouble. There were times I'd even come back to the cottage after taking advantage of that hunger, and Pop knew. Coming through the front door a bit shaken and eventually he would ask, "Did you nip it in the bud?"

Horrific? Too unreal? Or had we become the sentries of our home in ways officers of the law never could be? We have to believe this is so. My only woe was now it wasn't something I could take on, having grown more accustomed to that role than Barnabas. He still had thoughts of shame about it, years of time it had been a curse and a curse only, never a blessing. And if either of us sensed that danger in the air it was up to him. I could only take nourishment by proxy until I was sure the time was right for me to be that far away from our little one.

The woods grew more brooding in these thoughts as we pulled up to The Old House, but the smiles returned and the three of us went inside, the door opened for us by our dear Wadsworth, of course.

From his chair next to the fire, Barnabas rose and greeted us as we greeted him with hellos. "And how is our little girl?"

I bit my tongue in thought of Pop's joke about blood-suckers, but I shouldn't have bothered.

"She met a new blood-sucker, ol' man," Pop declared.

Barnabas looked puzzled until I explained. Then he wanted to see the bite and I told him, "No, the more we fuss with it, the more it will itch and we don't want that now, do we?"

"No we don't," he admitted.

I placed Sarah on the warm chair he had vacated. She sat comfortably, one hand in her bow-legged version of a lap and the other halfway in her mouth. I took that moment to sift through what letters on the desk had arrived, and yes, one from our far away cousin who'd presented this choice in the half-light as a wedding gift. I would look forward to another chat of the pen with her, though I daresay my concern over past-lives or guilt about villains isn't seen in the same view. Perhaps the romance and child-rearing should be what I focus on in my next letter.

Father and son-in-law discussed paintings, naturally. Modern and old as they both knew them from experience and memory. Steps on the stairs echoed down and Willie, heading to the kitchen, stopped to greet us, inquire how Pop was, reveal what the topic of conversation had put him in the mind of, and if it wasn't for that brief thoughtful pause Willie took via a question my father asked we might never have heard a high pitched sound in the room.

"Hello."

Everyone stopped and turned slowly. It had come from our smallest occupant. It was her first word, it had to be. What else could it have been coming from her but _Hello_? A word not often used, that we could recall, when we lived long ago, but certainly attributed to Sarah Collins as a walking spirit. The elixir of awe held us in suspense. Would she say it again?

Barnabas knelt before the chair, a demure fascination withholding his speech. Touching our daughter's face and then watching her tiny fingers grasp one of his, "Hello, Sarah." He gently let the words flow out. I could hear his thoughts, _To whom did she say it? From what memory did this come? Is it her anew on her own?_

Her eyes, usually dazzled by everyone and everything about her, were now fixed on Barnabas' hopeful face. She spoke again, "Hello."

Smiles were shared, and our own words softened in the hush of this one thing we waited for. Mama? Dada? What would it be? Not a favouring to one parent, not a favouring to anyone. A simple greeting to all. If we required any proof now we had it, now we knew.

It was her.

It was Sarah.


	40. Chapter 39: A World of Darkness

_Much of this chapter is based on Dark Shadows episode 422, written by Ron Sproat. My helpers and I looked over the events of it and felt a need to see what the censors wouldn't show the audience, but with every metaphor in design it's rather clear what happened. And so here we have Maggie, as Josette, helping Barnabas to recapture that experience again. _

_With all that occurs in the 1795 story line I came to see Barnabas' deep concern in this act. As always his personal doubts plague him, his love for Josette in his curse never wavers. I had to consult others to ask why a sense of requiring forgiveness for loving her was coming so damned strongly from him. In all I do for my adopted brood, please remember that even I require inquiries to what comes out in my channeling. I can ask the characters how they would behave, but their reasons for the results aren't always forthcoming._

* * *

Chapter 39: A World of Darkness... Lit Only By Our Love

_Dedicated to the memory of Ronald Sproat_

In that sad and anguished past of ours, there was one night Josette and I had known each other fully. Thwarting fate, the fate that was laid out for us; not the one we had chosen for ourselves, which presents me with misgivings in memory, things I was not able to think about in my agony or love-driven ecstasy of what I had now in our marriage centuries later. Josette, my darling, was hardly the girl I had met in Martinique anymore. She was a woman of desires and passions I could never know that were in her. Our battle against all outside forces had been our downfall and our strength. Together we professed our love as all onlookers shrugged and scoffed... and as I fear they still do to this very day.

I had seen Josette as diaphanous in ability, as naked in goodness, and her consistency drew me toward her to the wonder of mystery alone. Her other splendours to any erotic display before me had been the kind of paradise I was too frightened to contemplate. Tenderness of skin, the trembling in her kiss I could remember, but it was not the girl-child in that tremble, this was the paroxysm of womanhood blooming outward and for me, my Josette.

Tonight, in 1976, our baby Sarah was bedded down for the evening, and her ability to speak was becoming more voluminous in little beats and stutters. Maggie and I knew if we wanted to make love we had to tread more discreetly than before. As we stood there, what were my beloved's thoughts?

_"Do you remember what happened... the first time?"_

_"What first time?"_ I requested in anticipation.

_"The very first time we bonded as one." _She spoke, carefully.

I inhaled with trepidation, "In the... olden times?"

"Of course, don't you remember?"

"I am ashamed to say I nearly forgot," and I had. It would make sense during my madness to have kept Josette's room so sacred considering our union well after I'd bestowed my onyx ring to her hand. It was the one token I would only give to the one woman I would wed. I did this for Josette, and as cursed as I was, she almost demanded it of me. I had no choice but to obey her. I _worshipped_ her, she was, and remains, my _entire_ world.

"Aunt Natalie was very suspicious of that ring," admitted Maggie, "she wanted to know where it came from, but I would never tell her. I even remembered... my mother... and suggested perhaps it was a gift from her... It was sweet to think of Maman."

"I'm glad," I released to my bride, touching her face as softly as I could as I stood before her.

"She vowed she wouldn't leave Collinwood without me. From me she had permission to break that vow. Aunt Natalie told me I was going through my doom of my own free will, as if welcoming it and ready for its embrace."

"Weren't you?" I questioned Maggie, sadly.

"Perhaps, the journey of life is never simple, _mon demón_."

"Never for either of us, Josette."

"What life I have is my own... I told her that... And I'm going to live it here at Collinwood. And if there are forces preparing a special destiny for me they will find me here."

To hear my lady accepting the tragedies to come so openly, I couldn't help but stutter, "And so they have found you. And here you remain."

"I hardly knew myself what I was to endure, but I was waiting for you, my dear. It was all I wanted, and... still is. To later be trapped between worlds, and now that we've come this far? It has been worth all the trouble."

If only others had the wisdom in her devotion. And her devotion began to ground me and allow me to believe I deserved it.

"They were alarmed when I wanted some night air... isn't that funny?"

"Why?"

"Most of our life now... resides in night air."

So true, my darling. But there I was in that night air she was seeking, finally making my way to her in all of my uncertainty with myself, but a complete certainty upon reaching her. Our hearts were connected even then. Nothing would keep us apart. So much time and hardship came, but we were here at last, even in the weight of reliving that night together now.

"And I struggled with Riggs trying to get out of that room," she confessed, a quaver in her voice forming.

"No, Maggie," I bequested, hoping she'd form better focus toward our love than the anxiety from our past, "remember what happened afterward, when I stepped forward..."

"Oh, yes," she told me in a wicked smile, "I do recall that, quite easily. You were there and Riggs made no difference to me."

"Of course not." I expressed.

The walls of this room collapsed from our minds as we held each other... and the past in that room at the newly built house came alive for us here.

_"You came back. They tried to keep us apart. Nothing can keep us apart... ever again."_

Her hands were all over me once more as they were almost two hundred years before. Her fingers crept up into my hair, sparking a flutter like trickling beads down my neck and throughout my torso, and the memory we were sharing began to terrify me. Truth, beauty, and harmony in what we might encapsulate between ourselves so many years later, as I faced Maggie Evans, in all of who she was to me. She echoed the words we spoke before:

"I should have known you would come for me. This night will fulfil all my longings."

_"Those were your words, exactly, Josette Dupres."_

"You have come to take me with you, haven't you?"

I assented, then and now.

"Then come. Let us go and we will never return."

_"Never,"_ I had told her.

"Come, show me the way and I will follow..."

Standing beside her berth, as we relived this together, Maggie took my lips, savouring me in a way that could show no other but the spirit and the harnessing existence of Josette. Maggie never failed to surprise me. I remained cautious with her, and she? She attended herself as all mine, all hers, _all ours._

_"Remember,"_ I had warned, _"It is a road with no return."_

_"I know,"_ Maggie responded, repeating words we'd spoken together upon that night while living it again in this one.

_"It is a world of darkness,"_ I continued.

_"Lit only by our love,"_ she interred.

_"Yes. Only our love."_

_"We will share our whole eternity together,"_ Maggie breathed.

_"Yes,"_ I repeated from so long ago, _"Eternity."_

The life we led, the marriage we held, that Eternity was now as we replayed the hurt and the determination in desire we suffered before. This was another understanding that must play out, one we hadn't faced together until our child was born and we felt safe enough to share this harm together, that first night we resolved to slay the odds against us by joining in love... at last.

_"Then come,"_ And she kissed me, not in that wide eyed-eagerness as once before, not in that desperate hopefulness long gone, but as my wife, my bride, did she say this. Maggie was helping me to recreate our lost memory, that wedding in seclusion because no one would wed us then but ourselves.

_"Take me with you."_

_"Are you certain this is what you want?"_

I was ever constant to her needs, then and now.

_"You are all I want."_

_"It's still not too late. You can still be free of me. You can have life. Find love, perhaps... In the world of light and of the living..."_

What a fool I was to suggest this. I should never have fought her. I could not believe she loved me as much as I loved her then, but she did, indeed she did. My bride, my lover, and my life.

_"The time for question and doubt is long past. I don't want to be free of you. I'm yours. I must go with you. Not to death and darkness but to a world of unending joy. Come. Take my hand. We'll go together."_

Maggie and I repeated these words in her room, our room, and as we relived this sequence of events, when the panel opened as we dwelled into our memories of stepping through the hidden passages of Collinwood, walking hand in hand through the woods in the silvering grounds of moon and star light. A twig pricked her foot and Josette professed to me, "Please, it is nothing, _mon cher_. Hold my hand and lead me where we will be united..." Grasping harder to that hand as she instructed, we walked on and I kissed the fingers of it. How I deserved to be clutching them I shall never comprehend.

Finally reaching this same room, we saw the bygone age of sustenance, of renewal, of marriage, of sacred love. It was nothing like this marriage. It was cautious, slower, more diminutive and even then, we had our troubled torments from before. The wonder, the passion, the adoration...

Myself with Josette?

Her and I explore this again tonight...

* * *

We came to the house, so called The Old House, however renewed now, but then? Josette had said, "This is our home, and it will always be our home, as long as our love is placed in it."

Whatever form she meant that expression, it made me desire her all the more. She was convincing me and I tried not to smile, so filled with misgivings, but pressing onward regardless of those. We ascended the stairs, and though it would have been grand to carry her, the hurry we were in was too great.

In her room the lock was checked twice, but stealthily by Josette, and I was worried, not scared as I was with Maggie, but back then, she still had to undress me slowly. We held each other, kissed demonstratively. This Josette was never concerned about her portrait on the wall, she never thought of it. She only thought of me. She didn't start at my coat, but at my vest. And I watched her fingers in an anticipation of longing in what Josette might do next. Even in her breathing I could hear she lived for me as I lived for her.

Of Josette? I untied all the bows, ribbons and lacings I could find. I asked her in repetitions of inquiry if this was what she wanted, I could never force her, but she had accepted. Nonetheless I knew she was mine and I was hers, so to have her removed out from all clothing was of dire importance in the sacredness of the room I'd made sure was only crafted for her, and her alone. I tugged and pulled and lifted, and eventually we both were shown to each other as God intended.

There was the crux in our naked repose. Her additions to hairstyle and comb were gone, and what did Josette Dupres look like now? She _looked_ like Maggie Evans. Gone were the ringlets and such accoutrements that kept them in place, but when disposed of by ourselves in a natural shore of marital bliss? **This** is what I was given with in Josette: Simplicity.

As we held each other, the fire crackled, the candles gleamed, the moon shone through her windows in the shimmering reflection of the silken curtains chosen for her room, and I had to approach her as a husband. To lift her in my arms, hold her back and legs in my grasp as she slipped her hands about my neck, lending further desire for her in this sensation as I carried her to her bed. There was no other recourse but to breathe together in that apperception of matrimony.

* * *

"I was elated when you did that," Maggie told me, even as I was repeating my actions again.

* * *

There we were, experiencing every tangible portion of corporeal sensation. The cherishment of her on the bed, the clasping of our bodies, the kissing, the manoeuvring, the feeling of her skin to my lips. I would **not** be complete until I tasted every portion of flesh before we were forced to reach a completion. I wanted her toes, her knees, her ribs, her breasts, her fingertips. I wanted each filament of hair, each eyelash to kiss, anything I could contain before I finally possessed her solely and utterly.

The shivers that came from her as I kissed these sumptuous elements of my bride excited me to continue further. The blend back and forth from her to I in our constant apprehension of each moment together. Smoothness as my hand drifted from her foot to her hip and up along reaching her neck. Would I take more blood from her neck tonight as she had allowed me before? I'll let the fates provide these answers.

As my fingers tendered her forehead before stroking the chestnut hair above, I knew what had come previously in this moment. I had been with the Witch and Josette had been with a lover only by that Witch's spell. Tonight arose for the perishing toward those baser and putrescent desires that are _not_ of the heart, but of possessive destruction. Josette and I were far, far more than that, and would show it in this night together. All proof was before us to purge those wounds of lust and deception from our souls.

Any innocence within Josette was withdrawn from the curses, from the knowledge, from her inner wisdom, but still, in touching her, I felt she was so virginal in obliging me with her presence. I was determined to treat her as an equal, and in my kisses along her hands and arms to make so many invitations, so many appeals of, "Is _this_ what you want?"

Josette never said no, never deterred, never questioned. She always answered in the affirmative. What could I do as I lay among those sheets with her now? I had to answer that call of love and present myself before her. I endeavoured, so desperate, to know _why_ she loved me, as Josette did to me, I later understood. We were related to each other in the strain of trying to battle our psyches in answering questions that ought to simply be recognized and embraced as the clasping between us upon the bed that night. In Josette's room, hearth fire sparking, candlelight flowing above, us removed of almost all clothing and prepared to enact our love upon the bed, we had nothing left but to bestow each other to ourselves.

I shuddered at her form, disbelieving I finally was having my beloved, to touch her skin, from legs to stomach to breast and she responded to all of what I stroked. I was doing this, she was doing this; Blending so wonderfully, so incredibly, here we were at last.

Then I was upon her. She was naked before me in this bed. I'd strived so hard to present myself as the best I could give... there she was, waiting for me. How could I mean so much to her? Did it matter now? It mattered to me. She was my universe and I was about to enter that. I allowed myself to be hesitant, to shudder, to quiver right alongside her as that expansion of myself reached into her folds and... she gasped along with me.

Why did she cry out? It couldn't be pain. Her inner wall was already broken through as my curse with lust had journeyed its own tormented exercise. _But..._ Josette cried, cupped my neck, pulled me to her lips and after we were one? She spoke, "All I was longing for is now, Barnabas. Let this be forever."

That's when I knew I should no longer question myself about her. Of course she loved me. Why did I constantly wonder? Was it because in questioning ourselves we protect the mystery? Likely so. In this moment I pushed and felt and pulled and thrust into my beloved and let her absorb me so utterly I wasn't sure whether we were separate creatures or not.

As I was making myself known to her and she accepted in kind towards me, I took a hand to the left of her hip, savouring each moment and motion to unite us. She let me know her as she surrounded me. Josette overflowed her love around me, terrifying me with her acceptance. Our mouths moved, our tongues ached, our bodies collided, our love was continuous and no sounds in the house would be attended to our hearing beyond the flickering of log and snap of flame in brief lapses of glance.

Who I was and what I wanted to be was with her. The compression seemed to meld us, while our movements made it a journey of the heart. Though this movement was primal, its continuance spread through the weave and web of our bodies. Conjoined as we were, and all manner of heaven igniting through our limbs, streaming out, flowing through us in our earthly repose.

As I felt her inside and out, as I drew my lips to her I begged her forgiveness, but why? I loved her, and she loved me. Neither of us understood how I was asking, but I was asking for forgiveness. Is it allowed of any being to love so desperately, to want with so much longing, to possess in this way and finally attain? I made love to her with this question if she could forgive me. Why? _Because I had to_. I had no choice but to thrust myself inside her and request that she bless me, want me, comfort me, as I comforted her now. She was warm and touching, tender, always running her talons through my hair, but would she trust this love I pursued upon her? Was I too harsh? Was I horrid?

Josette answered "yes" on all points. She wanted my love, my pain, my body cradled within hers, and she did trust me. She told me this in her embrace, and on her lips for mine. Between her knees Josette clasped my hips as we were one and told me, "I am yours, you are mine, and we are one. Tomorrow night all shall be over and we will be forever."

* * *

Now we knew it would take nearly two-hundred years to make this marriage happen, so as we paused together, smiling, listening to the sounds of the room between sleeping child and dying hearth fire, Maggie and I were complete once again. The sanctity had returned to us this night, as our consummation had in the olden times and no matter what occurred in horrid visitors from afar, or distressed family in the vicinity of our home, we would be waiting to protect each other and stave off the horror that kept trying to invade us. Her and I were part of the small army that finally proclaimed, _"No!"_

Maggie and I returned to the present in our bed, her legs entwined with mine and in our kiss I had to ask, "Did that all take place so simultaneously between the power of memory and now?"

"You had to ask," she responded, clasping her left hand to my right as she faced me in bed, "of course it did. Of course."

The elegance of her structure, and benefit of her presence, the beauty of her form. I am compelled to describe each particle of her Heavenly bliss toward my very being... and... I cannot... But I go on trying in these journals. I have come to understand what I write are the love letters of a married man to his bride and I refuse to stop. I must pursue this devotion or have it die before us, which can never be for we are infinite. Her and I always knew we would be.

When all things are destroyed in this world, we remain. To any life that has given up? We prevail. There is no devastation on Earth that would keep us apart. We have proven it to be so. Her heart is my heart. her soul is my soul. Our shared union stretches across time, the tumult of unspeakable odds. And we continue. We are one. Her and I. United... eternally.

It was all re-enacted as our child slept peacefully in her cradle, and Maggie expressed in so much love, "I pull you through me, I feel you, Barnabas, I love you. Don't be ashamed. I am who I was then and I know we are one as we were so long ago. No more shame, no more guilt. Be with me, love me, throw yourself into me and I will surround you as no other woman would."

And so I did as she bid. I let myself go and thrust myself to the full as she had both allowed and vocally became excited by. Here we were again, my Josette and I, but as we re-lived it, Maggie and I understood that tonight was reliving a night we had reached so hard to attain so long ago. Wedded twice, wedded again, consummated again and as she gasped in excitement, opening her hands in the air, I coiled them with mine and held them down above the pillows in my clasp, gripping her fingers and my throwing myself into her so boldly.

I released and pulled back. Our intrepid breathing expressed what we both experienced to each other, with each other. In that moment of shared thrill I had to show her again what this evening, and that evening, meant. I removed my onyx ring and slipped it on the fore finger of her left hand.

Maggie smiled, first at me, and then at her hand that wore the ring.

"Barnabas Collins. You never fail. You never understand how you can always diminish me to tears."

I lay within her, body and soul, and we were renewed again as we had been so long ago.

"If those tears are ones of pleasure, I can only find the kind of pride in myself I never knew I possessed. In all that you are to me, in whatever forms of spiritual longing you travelled, I can only feel grateful that you did. My entire life has been devoted, regardless of downfall, to keep my family safe. You and Sarah are the pinnacle of that family to me. Never doubt that."

Shuddering in the various glows of night-time and the firelight, she nodded, "I never doubt it, Barnabas."

Then I removed myself from her inner beauty, our sides resting among the blue sheets, knowing this was the eternity I prayed so long for with her. I lived with her in it. The attainment of our love never persuaded me to take it for granted, as no other love ought to do. When you find your truth in coupling... well, disregard that for a realm of what adventure is to come after? You disregard your loved one, you disregard the sacred divine that Heaven has blessed you with.

Perhaps it is the struggle of so long being without each other, but my Josette and I learned not to take for granted the greatest blessing of human life: love and companionship. Take that for granted and done, and you lose the entire purpose in living.

And so the exploration for us continues, the journey remains unending in love for us. Perhaps I am _too_ romantic, too woebegone in my past, but I thank Heaven for this all the same. What other gift could I ask for in all the horror of my life, but this tender bliss toward a soul-mate who longed for me in return, _so_ determined that her spirit split from her human form to find me. Can any other love claim that determination in loyalty?

Not that I have ever seen.

* * *

_Whatever you can say... say it not for me, the author, say it for Ron Sproat, or... say it for them. Thank you..._


	41. Chapter 40: The Time When Ghosts Are

**A/N: For anyone who heard my "Pit Update June 2016" podcast, yes! I'm soldiering on. Hopefully any glitches to detail in this chapter I can augment later. I would lovingly like to thank: Helena &amp; Osheen for sticking through all this so long and longer, Melissa for inspiring the missive here from Maggie, Lisa for being all-around awesome and fed up with non-canon, bogus poopycakes, my auntie for her little kid suggestions, Katie (hope you're still around) for forthright reviews before and addressing so much that makes great sense, Nave Artificial for composing beautiful music that helped me get this chapter finished, for the time being, after several hours of re-writing tonight (check him out on bandcamp, he's wunderbar!), Myhrr, Trina, Barbara and Veritas for being so stalwart and awesome, The Leininger family for the publication of the book "Soul Survivor", and people reading from Facebook, tumblr, pinterest, youtube links, etc. If _The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows_ suffered via Facebook, well, at least this novel improved from it.** (Oh, and to Addams Family &amp; GAMM Fans for being into their coupling so I could find out I wasn't crazy for getting turned on by this one!)

So yes, there is a switch in POV during this chapter so I named who was speaking. (We'll deal with how it's published in print... later...)

* * *

Chapter 40: The Time When Ghosts Are Present...

(Maggie:)

_My darling Barnabas,_

_Another missive, yes? Didn't you expect it? Well how can I hold our daughter and watch her play while you are gone during the evening and not think of you? I know there are times that it happens. You don't expect a letter each night. We live together here, you and I. Still I miss you when you are out._

_This evening I think of things I may not have told you, why it is I love you. Those bangs don't comb themselves, you know. No, I often do that. Perhaps you simply remember that style as a young man, but it rarely left you, did it? Those strong, unusually large hands that held me and I felt immediately safe and secure, however much I questioned my feelings at first. But it all comes back. And the ocean waves have often helped, do you remember? I said if we lived near the sea we would live beyond adequacy. Oh, did that make you smile._

_And your smile, the relief that comes to me in it, dark and mysterious to some but with me I see the curiousity, the uncertainty, then the happiness of understanding in my returning smile. I have to enjoy the disbelief, my husband. If we didn't have that disbelief in what is real, if we took it for granted, where would the happiness be then?_

_Ah-h-h, I've seen you left your long coat on the rack near the door. How disappointing now I won't see that flow of its cape-like billowing when you come into the house later on. I am to be depleted of that delight. Still I'll be enveloped in your hazel eyes, sparkling with life, love and devoted admiration. Who could not love you? And you wonder why I do... That intense display of emotions; ranging from passion, joy, tenderness, desire, remorse, melancholy and sorrow filter through your gaze with an exquisite eloquence that never fails to touch my heart - my heart which belongs to you utterly and forever._

_And there my pen must drop. Our little one has knocked her forehead into the davenport. I was sure all of her playful crawling would exhaust her as Sarah plodded across the floors, exploring rug patterns with her fingers and tossing blocks about at stuffed animals. I was sure she was happy with squeezing their heads and watching beady eyes bubble out from her grip. Then my pen settled on you and the next thing I know she's turned her head at just the wrong place at the wrong time._

_Our minds can emit to each other what is happening sometimes, even miles away. Perhaps you heard it all? (Sometimes all I can hear from your excursions is Roger pouring another sherry and offering you one as you will often decline.) Did you observe me, from my mind and heart, being startled? Our little Sarah weep bitterly at her surprise in the pain that comes with projecting her skull against sturdy wood? I'm sure it's happened before, such pain. But thankfully Willie didn't race down the stairs this time in so much worry as he's done before. No. He and Cora called from the top of the stairs asking if all was well. I told them it was and they went back to preparing for bed themselves._

_I've kissed her head, she keeps crying, but as I hold her and think about you and this letter, which will never bear a stamp or address, little Sarah finally finds her calm._

* * *

(Barnabas:)

I look upon my little girl. Do you know who that is? She is all flesh, bone and spirit combined. Her bright blue eyes struck me each day and night with their crystalline gleam. My little girl, my daughter Sarah, is the same girl-child as I knew in our days of old, but now she has completed her second year of living once again.

Autumn comes as our baby reveals her conquests, and however small, we cherish them constantly, as almost all do with their darling children. It is the end of September as we watch Sarah grow to something large enough that she will move back into her old bedroom. Back, I say, in reference to where she grew up as my sister once, rather than the daughter she was now.

"Perhaps we should keep her in a different room at first, Maggie," I suggest.

"We've already done that, _mon doux amour_," Maggie answers with a shake of the head, "by keeping her in my room. When she is ready to be free of the crib she'll let us know."

And it was true.

Her life taught us, her ghost showed us, and now her splendorous existence bore out any uncertainty as she went from crawling to grabbing the rim of a table and started walking toward me.

"Come," I beckoned to her, "come, my child," her wee steps being such a precious beacon to my livelihood. Clumsily infantile, each step Sarah took enchants me with a thrill. At the other end of the davenport Maggie smiles, watching us, and little Sarah showed her eagerness in working her steps forward, reaching her hands toward mine.

My little girl...her tiny hands grasping my fingers... I pulled and suddenly she was a pillar of warmth... a reflection in my arms. No longer did she echo that, "Hello," but now called me "Papa". How I do enjoy these little mysteries of renewal.

Our baby Sarah so often explored my face with her tiny fingers as she did before she had died in our earlier days. At times it could frighten me, but Maggie would always reassure how in doing this Sarah was showing her pursuance of familial obligation.

"She'd touch you either way, _mon demón_," Maggie smiled, "don't hide from it."

"I won't," I told her, "but how do I let her know I understand?"

"Smile down and touch her in return, my darling," Maggie explained.

I remembered as much as I could. Only so many maids would maintain my sister in that previous life. Eventually it was I that made the difference in her training and growth. I knew I needed a type of companionship beyond what my sister might understand. And yet I knew Sarah was of just as much importance as my own nuptials. A governess would make the difference. (Then the trouble began.)

But... **now** was a new time. I held my wee one in my arms. She chortled and played as she had done with me so long ago. Transferring Sarah into the wings of my bride? Maggie happily reciprocated her love:

"She is so beautiful," Maggie breathed, "of any child I could desire... so beloved to me that it happened this way..."

Our little one laughed in Maggie's embrace. My bride kissed our child from head to toe as Sarah giggled happily, knowing not what it all meant, just feeling it thoroughly. How my tears formed, aching to fall from my eyes. So less than an arm's length across from me as I sat there watching.

"How I love you both," I dared to speak.

"And we know it," my wife nodded, picking up Sarah and being showy with her before me as Sarah smiled.

"You dare me, to display so much affection?" I catechized.

"Your family always dares you, Barnabas," she absolved.

I had to be pleased with her explanation. It showed so many truths. "Yes, my family does, but it's my immediate family that deserves attention to those answers."

"Will you show me it in your kiss?" she inquired.

I would never answer that except in the physical.

* * *

The chatter came, the words beyond hello, the disfigured syllables leading towards her trying to pronounce the labels in all objects and their attributes like colour, shape, size, a body part, whatever Sarah fancied to know or to pretend to understand in how small her knowledge might be. She would point to it and we would announce it until Sarah repeated the name of an item, be it a chair, an act of emotion on our faces, an article of clothing. Whatever Sarah wished to know in touching and looking to us for a response we would find the word she wanted and she would try to repeat it. Perhaps it would come out lisped, but still, it would come out and we would do our best to show our pride until little Sarah lost interest and found it in another curiousity.

As luck or good forethought would have it, certain inventions were installed that kept with our running water, such as an upstairs and downstairs lavatory. Eventually I realised this would be preferable for Sarah's growth, much less the rest in the house that required such needed rooms of "comfort". However, modern electricity was out of the question. Even Mrs. Loomis agreed to this in the pleasant humour of preferring her Willie in, what she called, a semi-gloom palace instead of the haggard "crazies" at Wyndcliff.

"Besides," she reasoned, "if I want electricity it's here elsewhere on the estate." Little did this mischievous nurse recognise: I was well aware of the battery-powered radio-set she'd smuggled into our home. Mrs. Loomis had been good enough to keep it to herself, even using an earphone on occasion. Still, she made Willie happy and helped in all manner of chores, even so far as lending a hand out at the lighthouse or changing nappies. I was happy to allow ignorance of her machine's presence for this exchange.

More to the point, Cora Loomis had spent so much time with Sarah as an infant that Sarah's development from diapers to toilet moved rather smoothly. Apparently this winsome woman managed to get Willie involved, too. I have heard, and seen with my own eyes, any number of odd smiles, shared dances, and facial expressions that tell us our daughter is in the right hands. I might venture to state my being remiss in this responsibility as a father but Maggie reassured me.

"No, no... So far she is mortal, as we wished her to be. She will awaken many hours before we do and needs the attentions of others regardless. Let us allow our companions to show her the way. We have to trust them, and for something as mundane as this, what is there to choose?"

My bride is correct as she always is.

* * *

Correct, though my bride might be... dangers come to all children. One finally came to us just before sunrise, one we contemplated would eventually occur.

At first my bride and I presumed the voice was a light disturbance, but that cry in the dark grew wilder and more piercing. Then we heard, "Papa! _Papa-a-a-a-a!"_

My chest withheld a profound urgency between shattering glass and the fluttering of an erstwhile explosion. _No, not my child, no! No one can harm her now._ The light of dawn was upon us in what would normally be settling us to sleep into the afternoon, but not this dawn. This dawn was the awakening of past troubles haunting us again.

Sarah's screams were a parents' agony and once upon a time I'd known her cries, but none like this, not in her previous life or in my original mortal existence. Our robes were hastily tied and we sped through the bedroom door to reach Sarah's. She was nearly falling out of bed with her flailing kicks and arms stretching out in both confusion and horror. Maggie grasped them quickly and knelt beside our child's bed, trying to calm those wild limbs. Next we heard, "Papa! Run away! Come back, Papa! Come back!"

Maggie pressed her hand on Sarah's forehead as we held her down from thrashing about. Quickly Sarah opened her eyes and began to catch her breath, looking bewildered and searching her mother's face.

_"She's remembering, Barnabas. Let her see you and hold you. Let her know you're here. Let yourself be a steady presence."_

As Maggie sent this message to me with her mind the precious face of our little one turned to me in recognition and I took her into my arms, reassuring her, "Papa is here, I'm here, my child. I'm with you. I'm not going away." And stroking her head I could also feel Maggie's hand trace where mine had coursed. I couldn't be sure how to handle this kind of nightmare. I had to let my family lead me through it, but I was aware I had all the love necessary to go on this journey with them.

"_More aware than any of us, mon demón..."_ Maggie assured me in her thoughts to mine. Next she lit a taper candle in its old-fashioned holder on the night-stand close by.

_"Josette? Comment puis-je en savoir plus que toi?"_ my thoughts bled these words in my panic.*

"_You know more than I by virtue of who you are,"_ she asserted as one tiny flame lit up the room in a glow of warmth and hope, "_Hold Sarah. Hold our daughter. You easily remember her suffering, and thereby are the only one who can understand it. Just feel, just love, Barnabas, as you do so well._"

"Red," little Sarah cried, "his face is red."

She was only just over two years old. How could she speak these words?

I held her to me and Maggie brought the candle closer to us.

"Look, Sarah. Is Papa's face red now?"

Her plump features relaxed with exquisite purity, relief in touching my cheek.

"Non," she answered, "Salut, Papa."

"Salut," I responded, smiling but my chest was filled with trepidation. She was so small again. She was so beloved as always. Little memories of her previous life floating back to me, avenues of joy I had been reliving and could only tell few people about, but not Sarah. Meanwhile those parts of the past that surfaced for my daughter were showing themselves as the most traumatic in memory. Why could she not remember the joys right along with me?

_"Perhaps she will, yet?"_ my bride answered in thought.

Sarah's expression showed weariness and I held her head to my breast, looking into Maggie's eyes and asking, silently, _"Please say so, my dearest. Please tell me... if these memories must expose her to so much sorrow, that there will be joys to share as well."_

My wife's candlelight glowed around us all, her face, her smile echoed out from it, "I promise, Barnabas. The joys will come... and even more so because I want to share those joys with you. Her and I had so little time to get to know each other. She's my daughter now, but what you shared before I came? I want to know that too. Let's share those joys together."

I was calmed and Sarah's little breaths came and went. She was sleeping again and as Maggie stood, the light in the candle she held shining over us, I began to let go of Sarah's little body, when my shoulder felt a press, "Bring her to bed with us. She'll feel safer there."

Removing our little one from the bed clothes, I scooped her up and Maggie led the way with her candle, more for convenience than otherwise as our feet knew this home blindfolded, and our powers required less illumination. Steps flowing, we returned to that sanctuary. Sarah eking out a tiny moan, an utterance of sighing through her previous cries as I carried her.

Entering our bedroom now, Maggie shut the door and blew out the candle, leaving it to rest in its holder on her nightstand. She and I turned down our own sheets and in I placed Sarah, mooring her little body to the middle. Neither Maggie nor I bothered removing our robes, but got in with her immediately to comfort her on either side, as well as ourselves. Sarah blinked up to the canopy a moment, then turned her face toward mine, smiling with the assurance nothing had happened to me. I smiled back as I touched her cheek, removing tender wisps of hair away from her face.

Her mother moved lower down on the bed and took up the blankets to cover us all, smiling so warmly as Josette of old, pleased at the love she witnessed between us.

"The road might be rough, but this success in making peace with our demons is reward in plenty," she pronounced, just above a whisper.

"Oui," I agreed, "And the sounds of our voices... are allowing her the knowledge of safety. She'll be asleep soon."

"Hmm," my bride wondered, "How may she cope with our late sleeping in?"

"Who knows?" I asked, keeping my words soft, "perhaps she'll join us in that."

Maggie let her head sink into her pillow, still gazing into my eyes. I allowed myself to relax, our family enjoined for this time almost into dawn. Bare glimmerings of sunlight permeating the drapes, sensing out the darkness of night time to clear with its power. We kept speaking in low tones.

"The candle was a beautiful gift," my Josette remembered.

I desired a tease, "Which one, my love? The one to lead me back home or the one that led her back to us?"

"Both, of course," Josette smiled, "Even Riggs had a hand in all of this."

"As did your father," I told her, "those are my favourite additions to all of these memories. In all that attempted to destroy us, those little moments of help, almost on the sidelines, bring the best to us. All those small gestures of input..."

"Oui," she said, "those small portions rarely know the credit they deserve in life's journey toward... never-ending joy..."

"You misquote yourself, Maggie," I pointed out, "you said unending-joy, so long ago."

My bride laughed, softly, "So I did, but both are valid, Barnabas Collins," and here she drifted her hand into my hair. I closed my eyes, absorbing the tender touch as her fingers stimulated all about me from this area. The grasp leant more toward my heart than any other part, but all portions of my skin and soul were touched in the caress. As I've explained previously, somehow other elements of us are massaged by touching a single area, and her doing this aroused far more than the sexual in me. It brought a threshold of previous memories, dimensions in me I couldn't describe, thousands of fragments woven through who I was, both past and present, always with the amenity that she loved me, whether I understood how it was possible or not, _she loved me_.

The night turned to day in this beauty of now, this vivid display of affection toward protecting our daughter so that her haunts would plague her less, doing so with gestures of the heart by our hands, and the sun would rise before us through the windows, but the curtains were closed and we would sleep together. What dreams befell us are of little concern because, as like what Sarah exhibited this morning, it is the ones reaching our wakefulness that entail the richer memories of dream. We sleep and sometimes live in that unconsciousness immediately, but it's only as we are about to awake that we recall what any of those dreams could have been.

When would the other memories arise? I wondered. The dog that had perished, the cries in Sarah's harm by the doll Angelique possessed to be prodded with pins? Would this child, our Sarah of now, recall Victoria Winters as her governess or Phyllis Wick? Her mother, Maggie, and I recalled both in what we endured together, but which would be our daughter's past life for sure? The questions between all of our knowledge seemed endless and uncertain, but it would be natural of me to wonder. I felt sleep coming strong with the onset of dawn.

As I drifted into dream something of "princesses" came into being. Twelve princesses; each one more beautiful than the last. Ah, this was a tale my mother had told, perhaps I was recalling it, perhaps Sarah was, but the beauty of my own mother's voice was creating a serenity in me, a serenity I'd all but forgotten. Perhaps this inheritance of a daughter was blessing me with that warmth; a mother's storytelling in the evening, and my looking across the bed to my bride's sleepy eyes.

Josette smiled, placing her fingers to her lips to kiss them and reach those kissed fingers to exchange her kiss to my own lips, which I took gratefully. Disentangled robes and all beneath these sheets, our love remained. Whatever shining struck any cracks in the drapery; they sent us comfortably into the land of slumber.

* * *

*****Barnabas' French translates to "How can I know more than you?"

**A/N: (The next chapter will be very romantic and sensual: it's based on DS episode 70.)** **I know it's a lot here, but just jot down any highlights that thrilled you in the comments area below. Let me know how you felt about it, if nothing else. Peace.**


	42. Chapter 41: The Lady In White

**A/N: Some of this has adult content but most of it doesn't. I didn't anticipate it to go there but... you know... this couple. *wink* (Very likely that portion will go over most readers heads.) Pardon that it gets wordy. Barnabas and I asked Edgar Allan Poe for a little help. ;) I listened to a lot of music by Adrian Von Ziegler while writing this. (Also available on bandcamp.)**

** For this we have the delving into Episode 70 of Dark Shadows written by Art Wallace. As said on my blog, Josette is not an under-developed character, if anything she is over-developed into a plethora of facets. Her ghost is one of these facets and what with Josette's Ghost manifesting on Dark Shadows during times Maggie Evans has been asleep (or as near to asleep in her activities as makes no difference) we can see how astral projection comes into play. As Episode 70 is Pre-Barnabas Dark Shadows, I hope you delight in the catch-up time our couple shares here. To me their love is a continuous dance, and one I could never invent, only help to heal.**

* * *

Chapter 41: The Lady In White

Love is Manifold.

As I was brought up I discovered the variety of love interlaced throughout each individual I held feelings for, my heart became trapped in what it all meant. How could it be felt in so much diversity? Even the servant I need nod to had some form of appreciation from me. It was as a lad I noticed a stark difference from my father, Joshua, and I. I wanted to emulate his demeanour, of course. He was my father, I looked up to him, but I had no gift toward such dismissive attributes and therefore turned to my mother, Naomi, and learnt from her communications with those in my surroundings.

Later I came upon Josette du Pres... and... I discovered that adoration on Earth was diversified. She might have been confident at one time, made her decision to pursue me for being different from the rest who pursued her, and then she arrived in my home and displayed uncertainty. That uncertainty did not come from questioning her decision, but from trying to discern her desire and what made it so strong.

Overreaching the oceans on that ship, yearning for me as I was for her, and in the chaos that arrived later? The curses that plagued us came and kept coming, the shedding of centuries in turmoil to be together. How is it that from evil I have derived a tranquility in love?—from the covenant of destruction, an adoration in happiness? But as, in ethics, good is a consequence of overcoming evil, so, in fact, out of sorrow is joy born. Either the memory of past anguish is the bliss of today, or the agonies which _might have been_, have their origin in the ecstasies which _are_.

Maggie, the renewal of Josette, kept practice in both housekeeping, being a mother to our little girl, sharing delights of friendship among us all, and the gardening of blooms whether in soil or stowed in our vases.

One might tease us that our home smelled of a funeral parlour with so many flowers at times, but considering we lived in the gloaming betwixt life and death, vampires of a peculiarly early rising, the odour and the metaphors were blended to perfection. She and I would even have a smile over the idea once in a while.

These decorous blossoms kept us aware of many beauties in our marriage. Of Agrimony we had thankfulness and gratitude. Of Arbor Vitae we had unchanging friendship of living for each other. Daffodils showed us "regard", Sweetbrier extended us wounds to heal, Forget-Me-Nots promoted our true-love in The Old House, Ivy Geranium: bridal favour. Bridal favour? Lord, love me, my Josette! Honey Flower, her love sweet and secret.

Blooms that promote fidelity, adoration, marriage, absolute adherence to our kinship, Maggie would acquire all of these blossoms, flaunt them at times, and as she turned towards me, her long, brunette waves, her darkened orbs flaring at me from beyond two generations backwards to scream my love, Josette, into my eyes. However Maggie might laugh at me in doing this, I drank it all in.

That defiant Lady Hampshire was among them both and taunting us all, as Kitty deserved to taunt us. Between the centuries, Kitty was the one who had suffered the most quickened bewilderment of the three and throughout our love-making Kitty was the one I requested the most forgiveness from and whom I felt that response out of. But better still? Kitty always showed thankfulness and gratitude to be embraced, even as Maggie reminded me she was all three.

I, Barnabas Collins, never calculated what blooms would steal my soul throughout the year, but Maggie, my Josette, always knew instinctively. I'd hated myself for frightening her with that knowledge, but now my bride simpered at me, "You had no idea you were trying to inform me with what I already knew, but hadn't digested yet."

_If only she would slap me with such knowledge so that I would feel it physically, rather than smile and permit the undeniable agony that she knew me beyond myself!_

"I refuse to strike you," she answered my questioning thoughts; "I'd rather kiss your cheek in remonstrance."

_I didn't deserve her... I simply didn't._

"You had to admit such things to yourself," she told me, "for you and I to deserve each other."

Josette knew damn well how to torture me with her love. My retaliation? I would grasp at her tonight and attend my lips to every portion of her stomach, move on to her legs, arms, whatever crook and joint that might be lesser known in my understanding of her body and spirit; I would pour exalted worship toward her. She will inhale, exhale, shiver, and hold me. Neither of us shall win or lose but simply strive to absorb every molecule of each other's soul and flesh.

More and more often did guests, family; friends come to attend to the wee Sarah. Our miracle child was doted on and cared for by others more often than we expected, which left my bride and I time to reinvent our love, as many lovers are able. The difference being we had so heavy a history to rediscover between our lives.

Such a journey of dominance and devotion, but which of us was dominant? It could hardly be I. I was a native in the fear of a world she had made clear.

* * *

I would take walks during the evening, circling The Old House in both an entertainment to view its changes and in the comfort it showed in being the home of my youth. Steps on all sides and in corners I'd played in olden times, been by myself, found Sarah lonely and reached her in consolation or left her to her own solitude depending on her needs.

As I made these rounds about the house I realised, "Oh, daughter-mine, I shall have to learn it all again. When will you need your space and when will you need me or your mother to inhibit that space? I pray I am as up to the task now as I was then, and better I hope."

Has anyone noticed that I worry much over my loved ones? It is the dilemma of an affectionate soul.

On this particular evening, thoughts of family business and the rains that had come began to flit less through my mind on this semi-patrol of our homestead. I wanted to concentrate less and less on the sale-price of fish, or the new distribution techniques of what this 1970's realm could provide Collins Enterprises. Could they not realise I was of the 1790's and so was my love? No, of course they couldn't. But circling The Old House of my youth provided the grounding I needed to realise it for myself.

Then I stopped.

That heart, the splendid heartbeat in time with my own began its flitting pang of familiarity. _She_ was coming.

My darling, my darling, my Josette of the 1790's and my Maggie of these 1970's, both of whom were one and my own, though when she turned to face me, a single blink reminded me of that spell in the 1890's as well... Kitty dear, Kitty mine. Brown eyes always beckoning, titian-chestnut tresses beguiling my recollection in both the singular of her now, and the threefold of all that she has been.

Josette walked toward me from the front door and concerned herself with none of these details as I was thinking them all. She simply saw me, had missed me by my absence and viewed the admiration of her on my countenance. How many expressions do lovers intimate upon while observing each other from afar? The smiles must be innumerable, the surprised looks incalculable, and we desired to experience all of them. I feigned a confident look of approval at her, but she and I knew, I was melting before her. Only my wife, this wife, could detect the fakery in any of my smiles.

She leant a gentle smirk. Then I heard, _"Are you trembling at me again_?"

I was left to admitting some fear of her, a fear I'd come to admire in myself for it was one of the many motifs that kept our passion in bloom.

Long ago, in 1795, I shook with anxiety as the storms passed while Josette's voyage to our home plagued my heart. Staring out the windows and terrified that the ship she sailed on had sank whenever the thunder crashed. But those weeks passed and there she stood. Perfectly dressed, her expression warm and loving as ever. I opened my arms as she appeared to me before the hearth of our home. I saw no one but her as she held me, told me to worry no more. I gripped my fingers around her arms for no other wish but to have us already wed and to take her in marital fury then and there.

Such luminous eruptions of desire for Josette and Josette alone... it is what one cannot fathom but wish to as they look at me; me ever unmoving but they wanting to understand what I suffer. I have heard that others see it and can't recognize its meaning. This is why I write, that perhaps, someday, one whom they know will contemplate these words, or those that discover an indecipherable beauty among us and need answers as to their petrify? I have the answers, however delirious.

Maggie, my bride, pursued her steps toward me among the columns and my trembling was as true as she had suspected. A memory flashed of my kneeling before her with the jewellery I offered to win her affections once upon a time. I had forgotten what Josette's preferences were, minus fragments of novelty in our olden days, and I presented paltry manifestations to her in my desperation. I became the worst version of myself and she knew it, but still she forgave and loved me. Why shouldn't I fear her?

_"Mon demón,"_ I heard her thoughts smile, almost wink at me, _"there is that little stone bench near you. You needn't fall to pieces before me. Take the seat."_

As instructed, I took the seat beside one of our esteemed columns afore the home we'd enriched with the beauty of our love and she stood there in that dress she wore on the second day she was my wedded wife. The elbow sleeves with lace-dripping trim excited me to the sloping delicacy of her forearms. Her skin shone in heavenly hue from the night sky.

"The moon is full... as her gleam showers you with the kisses I never could bestow," I confessed to her as she stood before me.

_Maggie Evans, how I was so wrong about you, and so right..._

"You were still in that isolation as I protected this home, Barnabas."

"Yes, I was."

"Do you want to know what I did here?" she asked, gently smiling down on me.

I looked up in the state of worship she had forever placed me, "I want to know everything about you." I admitted, however shakily, but with no reservation.

"I removed myself from the portrait; that painted emptiness our family's memory fastened my likeness to."

"As well you ought to do, my Josette."

"And...? I exited the house and came here."

"And then?" I beseeched her, entreatingly.

"I did this..." Maggie, with a broad smile, suddenly glowed. Her exterior absolutely shimmered with an opalescent haze that surrounded her, as if her ghost, and I suppose that it was, enshrouded her own being that walked the Earth as my bride.

Josette swayed about the portico with a blue-white brilliance I recognized in her cries for me as a ghost. I could hardly "see" them, but the spirit of her haunting entreated that lullaby into something I might see, for all her songs to me echoed through my heart from her sorrow, especially now that they were exonerated by virtue of our bliss.

Elbow crooked and hand drifting down afore her face, then drifting over her head as she slipped into a haunting ballet of almost prayer like movement. The dance she swayed was a miracle. No... An oracle. A finite wisdom only made finite from our being within a physical state neither of us would break. Perhaps some might believe our happiness would only be achieved on the other side, but my sweetness and I suffered the hardship to blend through both sides of the veil, the sun and the moon, the spirit and the mortal realms, something in-between, a twilight of resplendent wonder, and I knew it as I marvelled at her dance. This was who she was, who we were now.

Her gown flowed, rippled, waved in the night air. The glimmer from her spirit flashed reflections from the windows outside. I listened to her memories of David trusting her to **_kill_** anyone who interfered with this home. His proclamation startled her into presence. And that reverberation of Josette, which was Maggie, fell prey to unconsciousness while her other-half awoke here. It was an evocation, a summoning David had made, and she answered it willingly.

My darling was strong and always had been. She was our protector in all the despair and my heart beat in the rhythm of her timely steps before me now. It was hard to tell if a sweep of arm or skirt was a flash in my mind or my retinas.

As I lost myself in the mesmerism of her dance, those recollections to our handwritten love affair returned to me. All of Collins House could be falling apart, but one letter from Josette stalled any concerns in a heartbeat as it reached my fingertips. The genius of her ethereal cheer could never dissuade my attention away toward any other distraction.

My bride shone her spirit in a dance before me as I kept replaying our centuries long romance in my mind, however my heart was drawn irrepressibly to this spiral wonder before me, in glimmer and in shade.

Now I think of our letters sewn so acutely with messages of the heart—sheets written upon horizontally, vertically, and crossways—streams of love draped across one another as the case was in those days; her and I sitting at our prospective desks and awaiting servants to grant our words conveyance in a sea worn mailbag, reaching across oceans, to desirously touch one another. _Damn_ the world for being so trivial in components when all life could be an endless delectation of enchantment; Even if only She and I existed in it.

With élan, she came forward, glowing still and her face like shining marble before me. Suddenly I felt the skin of Maggie's lips to mine: touching petals of asphodel, that which carpets the dominion of Hades, the provender of the dead. Such was my bride's mouth, but this was _not_ Tartarus of the Underworld, this was Elysium dwelling on Earth in our dominion by the sea. All parts of her, mesmerism in a floral dance of delight. Brilliance came from her being—beautiful shadows stilled our words with the kind of silence that brought peace and tranquillity.

Steps on our portico, steps she echoed to show me in play: they glorified my life. A life halted in another shade of curse, but what I knew now was a blessing. No disguise could be made of it. It was obvious—obviously wholesome and pure. The mademoiselle of my dreams—dreams made real in an arid land south-bound from my knowledge. But Josette drew me there, I am sure. Happiness could occur, could be mine, and perhaps I deserved it?

I was a good son. I had been the best I could be. And she was my reward, my sanctuary. However much my love for her frightened me; she was my comfort from fear. That was what this replay of dance was showing me. As suddenly as it began the glow from her ghost reabsorbed into Maggie before me. Then she folded her hands down below her waist with a look of achievement.

"Were we not together in that, my love?" she questioned.

"Most unspeakably," I uttered, as afraid of her as I would ever be.

"You and I wanted to protect others and why?" Maggie, as Josette, asked me, "in the self-moving chance we have now, it is this, it's the reason I wanted you to know what I did while you were gone. I missed you, Barnabas. But I cared about our family. I stretched out to others while I awaited you. While we both fought against whom I was, who you were, so many confusions, but here we are, with... our baby."

Yes, our baby. Suddenly I wondered, worried. _Was Sarah allowed her own escapades apart from us or was I guilty for not being at her constant beck and call?_

"Oh, no" Maggie shook her head, "Our child has her own interests while we indulge each other here. I merely mention her as an example of how prosperous we've become."

I listened to winds flowing between the columns as I sat there admiring my lustrous bride, the moonlight still setting her skin aglow to ignite the fires of my heart as I gazed into her eyes, there we were... What could I do?

"Stand," my lover requested, "take my hand."

I stood and took her hand, shuddering before her grandeur, wondering what this new and wonderful evening would present. We'd been engaged physically so many times, but now I had to question what more might come. Josette had shown me her spirit, the most naked expression of any individual.

Her hand led me again up the stairs, to unwind and unbind all that covered us, reach for each other in the glow of tapered wax and lunar sheen. I was behind that locked door with her, but she and I were _un_locked from accoutrement and apparel, left to the skin alone.

This source of my universe would never let me go, never allow me the solitude that I despised all of these years without her. She decided for herself and I followed as her servant.

The delirium of true bliss... the bliss she pressed upon me constantly—the Heaven that frightened me—that which I was always frightful—that which Josette was always offering: my fear of it should be noted as any time love may be lured toward that absolute domination against a gentleman's primal lust. Josette had something more to show me.

Reclining on the furnishing made for sleep, but no sleep would come now. The tenderness was ours once more, the stroking of skin, open mouths moving to envelope one another, flames lit to illumine the room from candles to fireside, starlight and moonlight filtering in from the windows, as we stretched arms and legs about each other in our kisses.

Josette was my all, my splendour, my adherence to everything that was sacred: no crime, no shame, no shambles, just sharing her bed together. An eternity of desire hatched upon the ruins of love we had rebuilt. She provided the sanctuary I protected in this room—and Maggie had slept there repeatedly before I joined her in it. Her welcome was the only glory I could pray for. And there... we lay...

Whether she was astride or beside me, the rapture was slow moving, each stroke of finger setting my nerves aflutter. Gliding her kisses along me and mine along her, sheets sometimes around us, sometimes left to fall. At times it was as if we swam in our movements. Something _enveloped_ me, perhaps her spirit reaching to encompass me where her body could not. Yes! That was what it **must** be. I understood and glimpsed a smile from her in this shared understanding. A ghost may go where the body never might. But our hands kept moving.

Combined and holding close, I sitting legs half-crossed beneath her and our embrace tightening with this unusual position, when kisses could no longer bring us close enough we released our kiss and held tightly to each other, still in motion, but measured in the intensity. My cheek found its resting place at her neck. Her arms enfolded about my head, talons through my hair. My moan released as a breath in response to all this exhilaration.

A mist kept echoing its trickle about my skin. I had my bride and more, I had the blessing of her spirit surrounding us, hemming us together. Such a safety I never knew before but felt palpably.

Sensual, comforting and... somehow... exciting.

How? How was she doing this? I could never know, but I welcomed it as I embraced her, and our motions continued in love.

* * *

Having reached a pinnacle she moved back, and rather than on my lap she sat on the mattress as my legs surrounded her, her knees bent beneath my shoulders. We stared into each other's eyes, flickers of candle and hearth flame dancing along our faces. Then our eyes would move as we indulged in a sweep of caresses, I lifted her hair and she bent down to press her lips along my torso, to the sides of my ribs, a brief nibble between that and my hip, I inhaled sharply at this and kissed her shoulder.

Josette's kisses continued up again until she reached my lips, holding each other by the arms and I was allowed my time to respond in kind to _her_ torso, all done softly, gently, letting my face hover where it may, and continuing in this exploration together.

In another reach for my face, we caressed each other with our lips and going further, of course. She held me under the jaw and massaged about my ears as I swept my hands from her feet to her knees and along down to her hips, moving slowly up and around to her shoulder blades. Even with my eyes closed I noticed a brightness gleaming quickly, that then vanished. Again it was her spirit that shined; one last throb of energy to show itself. I opened my eyes. We shared tender looks of blessedness, reposing backward and down to rest our heads, still touching, still holding, still being, and lovingly aware of our paradise.

{*}{*}{*}

As I stirred in that last glimmer of candlelight before the nubs snuffed out on their own, Maggie lying beside me facing the firelight, and I took in her vibrant skin, my eyes fluttering from flow of creamy shoulder to ivory elbow, the kisses came to her, toasting in her delicious wonder as she lay sleepily by my side. Tangerine echoes from the hearth smiled at us, and I found my hands lifting her silken nightgown, pressing my lips to her back. She uttered a hum and inhaled, I could hear her responses, interest removing her from her unconscious repose.

But to press my lips and even suckle on the flesh of her back was my pleasure, and yet... she was pleased. The tandem excited me to continue, and as I clutched her ribs from behind her to pull her closer in my kisses, she inhaled sharply through her nose and then shuddered and moaned. My reactions so quick are difficult to convey in words... but I am compelled to think and pen these beautiful sensations to the best of my knowledge as I sit at my desk. When we are not in the act, our thoughts lingering there provide a deep solace. We can hardly be making-love to each other all the time, or can we? Can we not fill our pages with the memories stowed away in our minds of possessing our beloved, of appreciating each motion, each vibration they utter under our mentally, vocally, and physically admiring them?

Perhaps it is a constant when amour is truly granted and accepted, when all odds are against two lovers and they manage to achieve their harmony, winning with the tide by letting down their efforts to swim against it. As Maggie and I now lived with the supernatural rather than railing that it was a thing of destruction, these mysteries permeate our lives with our blessing to do so. No more does the darkness frighten us, but we embrace it. In so doing, a ghostly dance, a memory of once upon a time, a haunting becomes a thing of beauty which is a joy forever, such as Josette's diaphanous pirouette was during the nights of my entrapment to the tomb.

_And all my days are trances,  
And all my nightly dreams  
Are where thy dark eye glances,  
And where thy footstep gleams—  
In what ethereal dances,  
By what eternal streams!_

\- Edgar Allan Poe ("To One in Paradise")


End file.
